


I Want to Say, This Isn't What it Looks Like

by Drazyrohk



Series: Not Quite a Redemption Story [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Body Trauma, Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Violence, Confusion, Flirting, Heart to Hearts, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Character Death, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Prejudice, Robogore, Spark Merging, Spark Sex, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, robot swearing, safe words, shocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-03-08 11:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3207947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrong impressions and hasty explanations lead Knock Out to wonder if he was over thinking things... Wheeljack doesn't know why he started off in control and now just can't figure out what to say.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I wrote while being half asleep last night. It might continue, seeing as I've been attempting to get SOMETHING for this pairing hammered out! Pardon any spelling, grammar or other errors!

Knock Out was beginning to think he shouldn’t have turned to the med-bay doors as they opened while holding his rotary buffer aloft in a triumphant manner and wearing a manic grin. Of course, how was he to know that it wouldn’t be Bumblebee behind the hover cart laden down with medical supplies? How was he to know the striped former scout would be on a mission instead of coming to join him as they had previously agreed on? 

Now, on top of the rudeness of sudden, unannounced changed plans, he had to stand there and attempt to awkwardly explain his strange actions to a Wrecker who was looking at him with an eyebrow raised, scarred mouth turned up in a highly amused grin. 

“Bumblebee owes me a favor.” Knock Out said, attempting to maintain his poise. 

“Yeah?” Wheeljack grunted, leaning on the handle of the cart. 

“I was expecting him.” Knock Out set the rotary buffer down and strode over to the cart, making a show of looking over the contents. 

“He leave scuffs in the wrong place or somethin’?” Wheeljack asked conversationally, Knock Out’s field tightening and growing prickly with irritation. 

“I helped him with some general maintenance, if you must know.” Picking up a data pad with the inventory list on it, Knock Out glanced at the Wrecker. Who was still grinning. And whose field was feeling decidedly smug. “I don’t know what funny thoughts you’ve got going through your processor, but I’m beginning to guess you’re getting the wrong idea.”

“Could be I am, but I could see from here you missed some hard to reach spots. The kind that require a helpin’ hand, Red.” His words made Knock Out tense slightly, his field flickering with surprise. “Right 'round the wheel struts? Frame like yours makes it a long stretch when you’re buffin’ solo.”

The medic wasn’t sure what to say and so remained silent. Wheeljack’s posture and field were at ease, relaxed, but his words had a playful and dare he say flirtatious note to them that Knock Out was sure he was imagining.

Wheeljack straightened and moved to pick up the buffer himself. “Mind if I borrow this? Never did get the scratches outta my chassis after Screamer was done with me.” 

“I’d rather you get your own.” Knock Out stated honestly, Wheeljack shrugging and setting it down again. “After all, I have no idea where that frame of yours has actually BEEN.”

“Same places yours has been of late.” The Wrecker remarked, waiting for Knock Out to finish with the data pad. “We run the same patrols, through the same rust and rubble.”

“And why is it you’ve been delegated to menial tasks like inventory?” Knock Out arched a brow himself and Wheeljack grimaced. The expression made the scars on his mouth more prominent. 

“I owe Mags a favor an’ I was tryin’ to give my internal scans time to finish.” The Wrecker muttered. “Think a wheel cylinder’s outta place, but I wanna be sure.”

That was... curious to say the least. Knock Out’s entire ‘medical practice’ these days consisted of patching up Wreckers when they decided to do something stupid. It was never anything life threatening, mostly mesh wounds and the occasional reattatchment of digits, so Wheeljack being genuinely concerned about his frame’s well-being was unexpected. 

“I suppose it’s my duty to tell you to come see me if you need help reading those medical scans.” Knock Out said with a smirk, handing the data pad back to the Wrecker. 

“I can read ‘em just fine, but thanks for the offer, KO.” He used the nickname with something like deliberation. Pronounced the two letters separately after a pause. It was something Knock Out had noticed him doing around others, almost like the Wrecker was testing the waters, feeling out a reaction. “‘Course, I might have to come back if there IS a problem. Spend more time baskin’ in your glamor.” 

Okay, that time, he wasn’t imagining it. There really WAS a rather flirty note to the Wrecker’s vocalizations despite the fact that he was obviously making fun of the medic. Rude. Knock Out raised a brow and regarded the other mech in confusion. 

“Maybe I could help you get those hard to reach spots in Bee’s stead. Y’know, as payment for helpin’ out. I might not have medic’s hands, but they get the job done.” Wheeljack threw in a very cheeky grin as he spoke, flashing denta. 

Knock Out opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his face plates curiously warm. He made a thoughtful noise and looked away, tapping claws against his leg... considering. He was considering. Which was in itself just as bewildering as the flirtations. 

“I suppose.” Very eloquent. “That would be... acceptable.” 

Wheeljack reached out and tapped his knuckles against Knock Out’s shoulder, nodding and moving to the door with data pad in hand. Knock Out watched him, face plates growing warmer, and to his dismay the Wrecker turned and glanced over his shoulder with a smile before moving out the door. 

The silence in the med-bay was deafening. 

“No.” The sound of his own voice startled him and Knock Out gave his head a good shake to clear his processor. “Just your imagination, Knock Out. The Wrecker was absolutely, positively not flirting with you. Wheeljack has no reason to flirt with you! Definitely not his type, not at all.” 

Turning and picking up the rotary buffer, Knock Out put it hurriedly back in its drawer and closed it, heading to push the cart to his storage cupboards to unload. 

“He’s probably off with Bulkhead and Arcee, having a good laugh. ‘Got that smarmy medic good, I did.’ Because that would be more in his character.” Turning his thoughts over to the job at hand, Knock Out started shoving things into cupboards where they belonged, ignoring the lingering warmth in his face plates.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting slightly less awkward and yet more so...

It had been a long day full of tedious patrols and fruitless searches. The wash racks were blissfully empty, and Wheeljack took full advantage of this. Plating flared to allow grime underneath to be washed away, head bowed, the Wrecker rolled his shoulders and vented heavily.

Thank goodness he had the next few days to himself. Ultra Magnus had approved medical leave after seeing the scans Wheeljack had taken and insisted that he not ‘push himself’ until he recovered.

There was an itching, a tingling between his door wings. Half turning, Wheeljack saw Knock Out standing in the doorway. He was carrying a chamois, a small tub of caranuba wax and of course that rotary buffer of his that he always had nearby. Wearing a startled, slightly bewildered expression on his porcelain faceplates, the medic appear to be staring.

“Hey.” Wheeljack murmured, straightening. “See somethin’ you like?”

Knock Out made a strange noise that may have been an attempt at deflecting the remark, then reset his vocalizer and stepped into the room. Setting his things on a table, the medic strolled towards him and waved a hand in a dismissive manner. “As a matter of fact, I’m appalled.” He remarked, stepping up to the wash rack next to Wheeljack. “For a sports car, your paint is in terrible condition.”

“Wreckin’s a rough job.” Wheeljack smirked, pulling his plating closed and rubbing some loose paint and caked on dirt from his chassis. “I don’t exactly have the time to keep myself shiny like you, Red.”

“Perhaps you would let me do a little cosmetic work? Smooth your scars? Buff your rough edges?” Knock Out said conversationally, splashing his frame and smiling. 

“See, I got a problem with that offer, Hot Wheels.” The Wrecker’s mouth twisted and he turned off the stream he stood under. “Some of these scars? They’re off limits.”

“Really?” Knock Out arched a brow, looking incredulous. “Why?”

“Sentimental value, KO.” Wheeljack towelled down, watching the medic clean what appeared to be an already pristine chassis.

“Sentimental scars... that is really not something I understand.” Knock Out shook his head. “Willingly allowing your finish to remain marred?”

“Okay.” Wheeljack rolled his optics and approached the red mech. “Look. I’ll try to put it into terms you’ll understand, Red.” Knock Out tensed slightly when Wheeljack moved into his field, the Wrecker reaching up to indicate a scar on one of his shoulders. “This one here? Got that in my first one on one fight with a ‘Con. Happened right before I joined the Wreckers. I won. I keep the scar as a trophy.”

“Hmm.” Knock Out folded his arms, looking skeptical. Wheeljack frowned and continued.

“This particular ‘Con was responsible for killin’ a lot of Autobot engineers. Friends. Good people.” The Wrecker said softly. “A victory worthy of a trophy.”

“I... suppose.” Knock Out mused. “Wouldn’t archiving the battle in your processor be a better way of remembering a victory?”

“It IS archived. And I like tellin’ the story. But when I’m not talkin’ about it, I like bein’ able to see the results.” Wheeljack lifted his chin slightly. “Easier to wear the evidence.” 

“Fair enough.” Knock Out pointed to the scars on Wheeljack’s mouth. “What about these?”

“This here,” Wheeljack indicated a short one nearer the middle of his lip plates, “This I got the first time Kup punched me to prove a point. Kept it so I’d never forget.”

“That I suppose I understand.” Knock Out rubbed his own chin with a thoughtful expression. “Maybe Starscream ought to have done the same.”

“And this one, I got when my first attempt at makin’ a grenade blew up in my face.”

“Mhm.” Knock Out reached up and traced the largest scar on the Wrecker’s face with one claw, looking at him curiously.

“That’s a reminder never to try and argue with a Dinobot.” Wheeljack smirked, and Knock Out felt the Wrecker’s field brush against his own playfully. “I’ve got others too... unless you get where I’m comin’ from?”

“I understand they’re milestones.” Knock Out said with a shrug. “I still want to buff you.”

“No.” Wheeljack chuckled.

“Oh come on.” Knock Out folded his arms again. “Think of how shiny you’d be!”

“No thanks.” Wheeljack reached past him to turn off the wash rack, Knock Out stopping him.

“Wheeljack, I cannot be seen with you in this state.” The medic said heatedly.

“Tough.”

“I’m serious!”

“Your loss, not mine.” Wheeljack arched his brows. “After all, I prefer bein’ alone.”

Throwing up his hands, Knock Out turned and continued washing himself. “Very well then. You and your shabby paint job can go off and be alone. Unless, of course, you’re up for a wager?”

Wheeljack’s interest perked up at that. “Hnn. Guess you do pay attention to things other than your finish.”

“Scuffs or no, you’re still a fine racing automobile.” Knock Out glanced at him. “So let’s race. If I win, you report to me for a full cosmetic overhaul.”

“And if I win?” Wheeljack reached out and rubbed an errant smudge off one of Knock Out’s tires.

“I leave you alone. Never speak of it again.” Knock Out grinned.

“You’re on, Doc Knock.” Wheeljack held a hand out and Knock Out hesitated only briefly before taking it.

“Now, make yourself useful... I’m scheduling you for surgery as per Ultra Magnus’ orders and my back’s not going to wax itself.” The red Aston Martin demanded cheekily after their handshake. 

“I gotta pay for surgery?” Wheeljack snorted, shaking his head. “You sure ain’t cheap, KO.” 

“I haven’t a cheap bolt in my chassis.” Knock Out replied, putting a hand to his chest plates. “And it’s not payment. You said you’d do it if I fixed you.” 

“I ain’t fixed yet.” Wheeljack complained, following Knock Out as he moved to dry off. “Ugh. You’re the epitome of high maintenance.”

 

They had to wait several weeks, had to allow Wheeljack’s shoulder to fully heal after surgery. Knock Out took every opportunity to bring up the Wrecker’s flaking paint, and Wheeljack responded by insinuating that if Knock Out had been the one having surgery, they wouldn’t be waiting.

They met at the nearest straight stretch that wasn’t cluttered with debris. Wheeljack flexed his shoulders and glanced over, doing a double take.

Knock Out was ‘limbering up.’ He didn’t really need to... but the effect certainly wasn’t lost on the Wrecker.

“You wouldn’t be tryin’ to distract me, would ya, Red?” He murmured, Knock Out smiling ever so slightly.

“Is it working?” He replied, Wheeljack snorting out a laugh.

“You’re gonna need to try harder.” The Wrecker said, transforming into vehicle mode and revving.

Knock Out followed his lead, the two mechs waiting for the signal to go from their ‘spotter.’ Who was currently parked behind them in what appeared to be uncomfortable silence.

“Um...” Bulkhead murmured after a moment or two. “Did I miss something?”

“Did I hear you say go?” Wheeljack asked in response. 

“Right.” Bulkhead reset his vocalizer. “On your mark... get set... GO!”

Both cars spun tires and shot off down the makeshift road, leaving a cloud of rust and dirt behind.

“Am I imagining it, or are you listing to the left?” Knock Out teased over the comm.

“Is it just me, or are you blowin’ smoke out your shiny red aft?” Wheeljack growled. 

“If I didn’t know better, I would think you wanted to be lagging behind me. See something back there you like, Wrecker?”

“Just wanted a chance to do this!” Over the comm, Bulkhead could hear the rumble of Jackie’s engine get louder.

“Whoa, someone’s got a lot of horsepower under their hood!” Knock Out laughed.

“Wreck it and rule!” Wheeljack called out, laughing triumphantly. There was a sudden roar, Bulkhead grimacing as he listened. “Oh slag!”

“Oops... I guess I wasn’t done showing off yet.” Knock Out replied playfully.

“Why you pompous little piece of-” Wheeljack began, falling into grumbling silence. Bulkhead could no longer see either mech from where he was standing, but over the comm could hear they had stopped. “Bulkhead... I might have to resign.”

“It’ll be fine, Jackie.” Bulkhead tried to reassure. “It’s not about speed, it’s about endurance! That’s what matters to a Wrecker.”

“Knock Out.” There was a dangerously cold note to Wheeljack’s voice. “If you don’t stop drivin’ around me in circles, I’m gonna shoot out your tires!”

“I could walk around you instead.” Bulkhead heard the Aston Martin transform. 

“Knock Out, don’t push him.” The green mech warned gently. 

“Why? Cause that might help him win?” Knock Out teased. “Whoa now, watch the finish!!”

Bulkhead facepalmed. He had heard Wheeljack’s transformation and could now hear what was unmistakeably someone being tackled to the ground.

 

Wheeljack pinned the medic to the ground, one fist drawing back and denta bared in a furious sneer. 

“Nobody likes a sore winner, Doctor Claw.” The Wrecker snarled, Knock Out holding his hands out in defense of himself. “I’m gonna punch the smug right off your fraggin’ faceplates!!”

“You don’t want to do this!” Knock Out pleaded, shaking his head. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have-”

“Blah blah blah!” Wheeljack clenched his fist more tightly and pulled it back further. “I don’t like losin’ to hot shots like you.” 

“Does it... happen often?” Knock Out asked quietly despite his processor telling him not to.

“What do you think?” Wheeljack was trembling now. “You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you? Just had to open that mouth of yours and ruin a perfectly good-”

Knock Out reached up, grabbing Wheeljack’s helm and yanking him down. Their lip plates crashed together, Wheeljack let out a muffled noise of confusion and Knock Out held on for dear life because he was terrified of what might happen should he let go.

Eventually, Wheeljack lowered his fist and put his hand palm flat on Knock Out’s chest plates, pushing him away firmly but without the fury he had been displaying. Knock Out pulled away, meeting cyan optics with a great deal of hesitation. 

“The frag was that?” Wheeljack asked, frowning.

“Humans call it kissing.” Knock Out supplied as an answer, wondering if he should be preparing to defend himself.

“Yeah, I know what it is, you stupid puffed up bastard.” Wheeljack rolled his optics. “I’m askin’ what it was for.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Knock Out muttered, placing his hands on the Wrecker’s shoulders.

“Saw a manuver like that in a human movie. Back on Earth, I’d go and sit at drive-ins...” Wheeljack’s frown softened and he pressed a thumb against Knock Out’s mouth. “That was weird.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Knock Out said against the Wrecker’s thumb.

“Yeah, I guess... I did say you’d have to try harder to distract me.” Wheeljack gave him the barest hint of a smile. “Gotta say though... kissin’ doesn’t seem to work as well for us as it seems to for the humans. No fireworks or anythin’.”

“Maybe we did it wrong.” Knock Out tapped his claws against Wheeljack’s shoulders, shifting beneath the Wrecker’s frame. “Um... are you still going to punch me? Or can I get up now? Because this really can’t be good for my finish.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Contains robot sex! Of the plug and play variety!
> 
> Also, anything bracketed by :: :: means it's over the comm.

Knock Out was meticulous. Careful.

Wheeljack was impulsive. Chaotic.

They were apparently rubbing off on one another, not to mention rubbing other bits and pieces that were making being careful extremely difficult. 

Wheeljack was a mechanic, an engineer. Knock Out was a surgeon. They were both good with their hands in different ways. Knock Out was quick, could ramp up a charge with precise touches and leave a partner’s processor spinning. Wheeljack was insistant, firm and wasted no time in reducing partners to whimpering, gasping wrecks. 

The result now was a struggle, a mess, not one of the former Decepticon’s finest moments. Hands were denting armor, scuffing paint, shoving cables in a touch too hard. Hips were grinding and mouths were pressed into one another’s frames to stifle the sounds they were dragging out of one another. 

“Frag.” Wheeljack growled, dragging Knock Out against him a little more tightly and leaving a great deal of paint transfer on the medic’s thighs. “Knock Out-”

Knock Out groaned, pressing his forehead against the Wrecker’s shoulder. “Shut up.” He hissed, pushing the desire for more into their connection and his EM field. 

Wheeljack made an inarticulate noise, grasping the back of the red mech’s neck and running a thumb down the column of his throat. He sent a pulse through their connection, venting hot air. 

“Harder.” Knock Out demanded quietly, arching when Wheeljack obeyed. Wide fingers dug into the seams of his hip, stroked their way down to press under the plating of his leg. Knock Out gripped the Wrecker’s shoulders, leaning his head back. “Harder, Wrecker.” 

“A-ah f-frag...” Wheeljack was shaking, his field slamming into Knock Out’s, need bleeding uncontrolled and wild through their connection. 

Knock Out pressed his thighs more tightly into Wheeljack, squirming and answering every pulse with an echo of his own.

Wheeljack went rigid and his back connected with the wall. He bit back a shout, clenched denta, mouth plates twisting as charge flickered over his frame. His hand contracted on Knock Out’s leg, the medic rocking into him and letting the wave take him.

Overload was quite literally blinding. His optics and audials burst with static, and he braced one hand on the wall behind Wheeljack’s head to steady himself. Primus, it had been so long... Maybe that’s why he arched into a second overload caused by the sheer force of the one Wheeljack had. 

The still creeping tendrils of pleasure and appreciation were the first thing Knock Out noticed upon coming back online. Wheeljack’s cyan optics were closed. Their fans sounded uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent room. Knock Out straightened, frame protesting, and ex-vented slowly.

Stirring, his brow knitting, Wheeljack came online and met Knock Out’s optics. 

“The afterglow looks good on you.” The Aston Martin remarked, reaching down and pulling his cables free. Wheeljack grunted and reached for his own, thick fingers fumbling with them for a moment. “Thank you.”

The Wrecker gazed at him for a beat, then put a hand on the back of Knock Out’s neck and leaned up, kissing the medic’s lip plates firmly. “Hm.” He murmured after pulling away. “Still weird.”

Knock Out smirked, helping Wheeljack tuck his cables away. “I’m going to need you to come back to your senses, Wheeljack. You and I have work to do.”

“What?” Wheeljack sounded adorably indignant, and Knock Out couldn’t help laughing.

“I am covered in paint transfer and scuffs. You have to fix it before you leave.” The medic got up and stretched, fetching his buffer and what appeared to be his pinstriper. “Don’t get up. I’ll do yours first.”

 

...

 

Wheeljack wasn’t avoiding Knock Out. He told himself that again and again over the week that passed after their impromptu frag session in the med bay. He was just busy with work. Busy with missions. Busy with Wrecker stuff.

Thus far, no one seemed to have noticed what happened. Knock Out hadn’t said anything and neither had Wheeljack. There were plenty of comments on the Wrecker’s new paint job, what with the pinstriping and the smooth edges.

“That must have taken hours.” Arcee observed one morning, her gaze appraising. “I didn’t expect you to be the type to... decorate.”

“Yeah well.” Wheeljack shrugged, looking down at her. “I figured, while I was stuck in there, I might as well get prettied up. War’s over, an’ just cause I’m a Wrecker doesn’t mean I can’t give a damn about my looks.” 

Arcee’s expression was dubious.

“Aaand I may have lost a bet.” Wheeljack rolled his optics.

“That’s where you made your first mistake Wheeljack. You can’t con a ‘Con.” Arcee said playfully.

“He’s one of us now, but old habits do die hard.” Wheeljack headed up the stairs to Ultra Magnus’ office with Arcee on his heels. “Any idea what the big guy wants?”

“You’re behind on your patrol hours, Jackie.” Arcee said with a smirk. “I’m just here to log some much needed time off.”

“Ugh.” Wheeljack’s mouth twisted and he knocked on the Commander’s door. Ultra Magnus bid him enter and Wheeljack managed to pull himself upright before doing so. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Thank you for being so prompt, Wheeljack.” Ultra Magnus paused as he looked up. “You’re looking sharp this morning, soldier. It’s nice to see you taking such good care of your appearance.”

“Thank you sir.” Wheeljack lowered his optics.

“I notice, however, that you’ve foisted your last three patrol shifts off on some of the troops and disappeared from the base.” Ultra Magnus arched a brow and stood up. “Care to explain.”

“I’ve got no explanation, sir.” Wheeljack said honestly in reply. “But I won’t do it again. I do gotta ask why you keep sendin’ me out on so many, though.”

“I understand your frame type is one that requires movement and speed. I thought you would enjoy it.” Ultra Magnus looked vaguely uncomfortable with the notion and Wheeljack felt like an aft.

“Thanks for the sentiment, sir.” The Wrecker murmured. “I guess it’s less enjoyable when you’re bein’ told to do it.”

“Nevertheless, I expect due diligence in the future, Wheeljack.” Magnus stated. “You are to do a double patrol shift this afternoon.”

“Yessir.” Wheeljack grumbled, turning to the door. 

“And take Knock Out with you. He’s been logging leisure time as work hours.” Wheeljack paused, and his expression made the Commander frown. “Do you have a problem with that?” Ultra Magnus asked.

“No, sir.” Wheeljack straightened again, trying to keep his door wings from quivering. “I’ll get on it.” 

“See that you do. Dismissed.” Ultra Magnus nodded at him, turning to deal with Arcee. Wheeljack crept out and leaned against the wall outside. 

He had a tendency to talk a lot, but he was no good at talking about important things. Like interfacing randomly in the med bay. And not speaking about it for a week afterward.

There was a good chance he could get away with leaving the base without saying anything to Knock Out. Just go on patrol himself and leave Knock Out to do whatever it was he did.

And that plan would have probably worked had the medic not been waiting by the door to the base with a fairly bored and disgruntled expression on his pale face plates. Knock Out straightened and smoothed his features when the Wrecker approached, his EM field pulled in tight. He did a very obvious once over that gave Wheeljack the urge to openly defy the Commander’s request again. 

“You kept me waiting, Wrecker.” Knock Out said. “Our shift technically started two minutes ago.”

“Whatever.” Wheeljack grunted. “You always gotta be first, huh Red?” Even as he said it, Wheeljack wished he could take the words back. The feeling got worse when Knock Out’s red optics widened, then narrowed into an intense gaze that made him look hastily away. What was happening to him? “I’m no more than fashionably late.”

Making a dubious noise, Knock Out transformed and drove off, leaving Wheeljack to scramble after him.

They drove in silence. The first circuit they made was quiet, the second was particularly uneventful. The third found them helping a handful of Vehicons who had run into trouble, the group scurrying off once the medic was finished with them. The fourth and final circuit brought them to the highest point overlooking Iacon. Normally it would have been a lovely drive, but tonight it was tense and agonizing. 

Knock Out stopped at the top, parking and making a noise of appreciation. “Shiny. Always liked Iacon’s aesthetic.” He remarked, Wheeljack pulling up beside him.

“Can’t wait to see it when we’re done fixin’ it up.” The Wrecker said. He flicked his lights on and off, shifted his tires in agitation. “Listen... can we talk about this?”

“This being what?” Knock Out asked.

Wheeljack was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to say what he wanted to without making it callous. “We fragged in your med bay.” And there it was. The obvious stated in true Wrecker fashion. “And unless I’m losin’ it, we’ve been avoidin’ each other ever since.”

“Hm. I’m not avoiding anyone.” Knock Out mused. 

There was more silence, Wheeljack transforming and reaching down to pick up rock. He tossed it into the distance with a grunt and looked down at Knock Out.

“Was it awful?” He asked, feeling stupid and selfish and like a Primus damned sparkling. 

“No, no.” Knock Out replied a little too quickly. “It was fine. Great.” He also transformed, stretching and folding his arms. “Right?”

“It was good, I thought.” Wheeljack threw another rock, lowering his optics. “S’this a... one time thing?”

Knock Out watched him for a moment. “I had hoped not.” He said as he looked away. “I guess it depends.”

“On?” Wheeljack glanced at the Aston Martin. 

“On why you were giving me the cold shoulder.” Knock Out turned to the Wrecker, being met with his scowl. “And on why you were making rather scathing remarks back at the base.”

“I’m no good at this.” Wheeljack grimaced, still scowling. “And I don’t know why it matters so much to me. S’not like I’m new to flings and one night stands.” 

“Do you have any intention of continuing this, then?” Knock Out gestured between them. “You must, if we’re having this conversation.” 

“I dunno what I’m gonna do.” Wheeljack shrugged and rubbed his helm with one hand. “I want to.” He paused, then stepped closer and reached out to tentatively put a hand on Knock Out’s shoulder. “Want you.” 

“Are you going soft on me, Wrecker?” Knock Out asked quietly. Wheeljack pulled his hand away with a hint of a growl.

“Nah. Just tired, s’all.” He said, folding back into his alt mode and flicking his headlights. “We should get back, Red.” 

“Of course.” Knock Out stepped back, regarding him with a distant look before following his lead.

 

...

 

“Knock knock, Doc!” A voice chirped behind him, Knock Out looking up from the data pad he was reading to face the source. “Heh, see what I did there?”

“Your wit continues to astound, Smokescreen.” Knock Out rolled his optics and leaned his hips against his work table. “Can I help you?”

“I hope so.” Smokescreen grinned and swaggered towards him. “The work you did on Wheeljack? Totally killer.”

“Thank you.” Knock Out pretended to polish his claws on his chest, smirking. Inwardly, he couldn’t help cringing. It had been a rush job, a cover for things he didn’t want to have to explain to anyone. 

For the past two days, he and the Wrecker had managed to reach the point of polite but awkward conversation in the halls. There was an awful lot to read between the lines and an awful lot that Wheeljack still wasn’t saying to him, but at least it was progress. Knock Out was fairly sure the Wrecker was more angry with himself than he was with the medic, though neither of them wanted to guess why.

“So, I was thinking... maybe you could hook me up with some new decals?” Smokescreen fluttered doorwings in an spectacular impression of Starscream. “I like the 38‘s, but I think it’s time for something different.”

Knock Out vented deeply and pushed himself upright. “I’m afraid that’s the sort of favor that needs to be earned.” He said, moving with data pad in hand to Smokescreen’s side.

“And how would I go about earning said favor?” Smokescreen’s optics were bright.

“Earning that favor’s not in the cards, kiddo.” Knock Out smirked. “It would take something very big to earn a spot on my work table.” 

“Well, what did Wheeljack do?” Smokescreen looked crestfallen, and Knock Out felt his spark stutter as he tried to come up with a plausible answer that wouldn’t raise suspicions. “Cause I’ll do whatever it takes! I’ll uh... I’ll buff your feet! I’ll give you the phase shifter!”

“Now now, Smokescreen.” Knock Out scolded. “Bribery isn’t very Autobot-like, is it? Besides... Wheeljack lost a wager.” 

“What?!” Smokescreen bleated. “No way!”

“Yes way.” Knock Out chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“C’mon Knock Out... I’ll figure out something to make it worth your while. We could make a wager, too! A race, maybe?” Smokescreen put his hands on Knock Out’s arms, grinning eagerly. Before the Aston Martin could respond, both mechs were startled by someone resetting their vocalizer at the door. Turning, Knock Out saw Wheeljack standing just inside. 

“Am I... interrupting?” The Wrecker asked, twitching a brow.

“Not at all.” Knock Out said, Smokescreen turning to rush over to the pale mech. 

“Jackie! You gotta help me!” The speedster said, grabbing hold of Wheeljack’s shoulders. “I want some sweet pin striping like yours, but Doc Knock says he won’t do it unless I earn a favor!”

“And what do you expect me to do?” Wheeljack looked over at Knock Out. “Rough him up?”

“Convince him.” Smokescreen glanced at the medic. “Without violence.”

Wheeljack was looking at Smokescreen with an expression that clearly stated ‘Really?’

“Awww.” Smokescreen’s door wings drooped. “Did you really just lose a bet?”

“Yep.” Wheeljack shrugged off the kid’s hands and folded his arms. “Hours of bein’ strapped to that table so I couldn’t wriggle and wreck his work? Subjected to our vain medic’s scrutiny, not to mention his grabby hands?” Wheeljack rolled his optics dramatically. “Ugh. Agonizing. Totally not worth it.” 

Knock Out looked scandalized. Wheeljack looked smug.

Smokescreen glanced between the two of them a few times, his optics widening. “I think I know what’s going on here.” He said, both the other mechs looking at him while attempting neutral expressions. Smokescreen opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, holding up a hand. He pointed at Knock Out, who raised an eyebrow at him. “You hate paint jobs that are flashier than your own.”

“That is what I said, isn’t it?” Knock Out laughed a little breathlessly. “Now, unless you two have something you need, I have work to do. Ultra Magnus has me reading through the ‘abridged’ Autobot code.”

“I’m not giving up, Doc Knock.” Smokescreen informed the medic as he moved to the door. “I’ll figure something out!”

When the race car was gone, Wheeljack approached the medic, who had gone back to his data pad, in silence. 

“So, I was thinkin’-” He began, Knock Out dropping his data pad with a start. It clattered to the floor, sparking and going blank. Both mechs stared at it with wide optics.

“Oops.” Knock Out exclaimed. “Oh darn.” 

Wheeljack gazed at the Aston Martin incredulously, then leaned down to pick up the pad.

“Looks like my afternoon is suddenly and spontaneously free due to an unfortunate, unavoidable accident.” Knock Out murmured, looking at the Wrecker with a hint of a smile. “You really shouldn’t sneak up on people like that.” 

“Wasn’t tryin’ to.” Wheeljack said, setting the pad on the table behind Knock Out. “I was thinkin’-”

“Say, have you refuelled? Because I could use a cube.” Knock Out interrupted, pinging Wheeljack over his private comm. ::Come to my quarters?::

“I haven’t. If we go find fuel, will you stop interrupting me?” The Wrecker asked dryly. 

“Sure. We can make like fleshies and converse over dinner.” Knock Out made and eager gesture and grinned, heading to the door. 

::Why yours?:: Wheeljack asked.

::Medical overrides are the only things that can undo the locks.:: “I’m really amazed I haven’t had to fix your paint again.” Knock Out said with amusement. ::We need to talk.::

“Just cause I’m a Wrecker doesn’t mean I always take the dirty jobs.” Wheeljack grumbled. “Or the rough ones.” ::That doesn’t sound good any way you say it.::

“Why don’t you go and grab a couple cubes? I’ll meet you in the rec room.” Knock Out glanced over his shoulder. “There’s something I need to do.”

“Kay.” Wheeljack sighed, heading in the opposite direction from the medic. ::Do I need to worry?::

::Not at all.:: Knock Out’s glyphs were cheerful. ::Just wait in the rec room while I take care of a little business. It’ll be but a moment.::

 

Luckily, Smokescreen hadn’t gone far. Knock Out nonchalantly followed him into an empty hall and picked up his pace to catch the racer’s shoulder.

“A word, Smokescreen?” He said with a devious grin, the young mech looking at him with wide, slightly frightened optics.

“Ah. Hi. Again. Something wrong?” Smokescreen asked quickly. 

“Not yet.” Knock Out tilted his head to the side. “I just wanted to lay a few ground rules now that you’ve poked your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Um, I dunno what you-” Smokescreen began, Knock Out pressing a claw into his chassis firmly enough to leave a mark. “R-right. Uh... what can I do for you?”

“Firstly, it’s not really what you think and boy am I tired of having to explain that.” Knock Out grinned a little more widely. 

“I don’t care if you two are uh... ‘facing.” Smokescreen lifted his hands. “None of my business, right?”

“None at all, but now that you are aware, you must never, ever tell Ultra Magnus.” Knock Out twisted his claw and a few flakes of pale paint sloughed off beneath it.

“I wasn’t intending to.” Smokescreen grimaced. “But why?”

“Let’s see here.” Knock Out pulled his hand away to tick points off on his fingers. “I used to be a Decepticon. Now I am an Autobot. That makes me a villain AND a traitor. Wheeljack is a Wrecker. Who deserted. At least twice. Ultra Magnus might read too much into this tryst, might assume we’re plotting some nasty plot to destroy our very fragile and hard fought peace.”

“I... I didn’t think about it that way.” Smokescreen grimaced further and tried to step back. “I won’t say anything. To anyone. I promise.” 

“Good.” Knock Out brushed his hands off and smiled fondly. “I won’t bother making threats. That wouldn’t be very Autobot of me.” 

“Hey Knock Out?” Smokescreen looked at him in concern. “You say it’s just a tryst? Are you sure?”

Knock Out tensed and looked at him in surprise. “As far as I know, yes.” He replied. 

“Kay... I know it’s not my business or anything, but you might wanna talk to Wheeljack about that.” Smokescreen backed up a few more paces, then raised his hand in an awkward wave before hurrying off. 

Knock Out stared after him for a moment, then made a curious noise and headed to find Wheeljack. It looked like he wasn’t the only one convinced Wheeljack was holding something back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. So much talking!

Wheeljack was waiting by the dispenser with a disgruntled expression on his face, carrying two cubes of Energon. Knock Out smiled as he took one, beckoning to the Wrecker to follow him as he took a sip. 

“Thank you.” The medic murmured.

“Yeah, no problem.” Wheeljack muttered in return. 

There was no more conversation as they went back to Knock Out’s room, but anyone they passed in the hall didn’t even look twice at them. For all appearances, they were just a couple officers either on duty or on break. Knock Out held the door while Wheeljack ducked inside, still looking decidely put out.

“What took you so long?” The Wrecker finally burst out, Knock Out stepping into the room with a frown and closing the door behind him. “I felt like an idiot, standin’ there waiting.”

“My sincerest apologies, Wheeljack. I’m sure if your shiny reputation is tarnished, it’ll get better sooner or later.” The Aston Martin said dryly, gesturing for Wheeljack to sit at the small table in the room. 

They refuelled in silence, though it wasn’t as strained and awkward as it had been. Wheeljack stared at Knock Out at first, then looked around the room with curiosity in his field. 

“You like bein’ neat, huh?” He remarked in an attempt to make small talk. Knock Out stifled a snicker and drained the rest of his cube. 

“A place for everything and everything in its place. Doing your job is helped greatly when you know where all your tools are.” The red mech got to his feet and began rummaging through one of his cupboards. “Speaking of which...”

“What’re you doing?” Wheeljack asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice when Knock Out found what he was looking for and held it up. “We don’t have time for that. I gotta work soon.” 

Knock Out blinked in surprise and put his free hand on his hip. “That’s your only protest?”

“Last time we fragged, you spent half the day fixing my paint and yours.” Wheeljack got out of his seat, looking conflicted. “I don’t have the time for that.” 

“Then you’re just going to have to trust me.” Knock Out looked at the Wrecker with a smile and twirled his set of magnetic cuffs around one claw in a playful manner. “You do trust me, don’t you Wheeljack?”

“Uh.” Wheeljack replied, mouth twisting slightly. He clenched his hands into fists in a nervous way when Knock Out advanced towards him. “Not so sure I would trust anyone lookin’ to tie me up.” 

“Especially not a ‘Con?” Knock Out asked, optics sliding away from the Wrecker.

“M’not tryin’ to imply I think you’ll make like Starscream and shove a shock prod under my plating, but I dunno if I’m ready to just lay back and let you have your way with me, Red.” Wheeljack muttered, and when Knock Out looked back, he met cyan optics. His field extended to Wheeljack’s, who had his drawn close and guarded. 

“I guess that’s fair.” Knock Out said softly. “I guess we’re not at that point in our... relationship.”

Wheeljack relaxed. It was almost imperceptible, but a tension left his hunched shoulders and his field moved out a touch. 

“Why’d you really ask me here?” The Wrecker’s tone was hard to read, but his optics were bright. “Cause I get the feelin’ that wherever you went and whatever you did there changed your mind.”

Knock Out weighed his options. From what he knew and understood about Wheeljack, honesty was probably the best way to go, but that would mean-

“I was going to cuff you to the berth and frag your brain module out without touching you more than absolutely necessary.” He found himself saying, Wheeljack looking at him in surprise. As Knock Out continued speaking, he didn’t miss the quickly aborted cooling fans clicking on across the room. “But I’m beginning to think that this whole thing is about more than the fragging.” 

“Yeah?” The Wrecker was ever so eloquent. 

“Is it?” Knock Out prompted, lowering the cuffs. 

Wheeljack’s field contracted and he rolled his optics, hunching back into a defensive position. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to spill that I’ve had secret feelings for you all this time?” He asked in a rough voice. “The part where I’m supposed to get all sensitive and ask to formally court you or some slag?”

“No.” Knock Out turned and shoved the cuffs back in his cupboard, closing the door. “This is the part where we have a conversation and actually say the things we’re not saying to one another. I am getting the distinct feeling something’s been bothering you.” 

“You don’t say?” Wheeljack scoffed. “Maybe there’s a reason I haven’t been speakin’ up about it.”

Knock Out turned with a laugh. “Are you afraid of hurting my feelings? Trust me, I’m a lot tougher than most give me credit for.” 

Wheeljack’s field was seething. Knock Out’s was filled with cold judgement.

“I don’t want to have this conversation.” Wheeljack said shortly. “Not now.”

“Stop being so... emotionally constipated, Wrecker.” The medic demanded, Wheeljack baring denta and bringing his door wings up sharply. “You’re a good talker. So talk.” 

“Listen Sunshine, you don’t wanna do this. You don’t wanna go there.” Wheeljack had come just short of pleading, venting short and quick.

“If this is just about the sex, then say it.” Knock Out pressed. “If it’s not just about the sex, then say it!”

“Am I a replacement?” Wheeljack hissed, tensing even more. His field flickered with uncertainty and self-conscious fear. 

Knock Out felt like he had been punched in the face. “What?” He asked in a low voice. 

“I didn’t wanna ask it! I knew if I opened my big stupid mouth and asked, it would ruin whatever this might be, even if it DID end up just bein’ ‘facing!” Wheeljack’s field exploded outwards, and now the uncertainty was on his faceplates too. “Frustrations aside, I LIKE whatever this is, whatever this was, but I don’t just wanna be a surrogate!”

Knock Out didn’t speak. He stared with wide optics at the pale mech across from him. Clearly, the floodgates had been opened because Wheeljack wasn’t stopping. 

“I need to know if all this is just because I remind you of him, KO. I don’t know why, but all this started as something just sorta... innocent and inconsequential and then it changed and I wanted-” Wheeljack growled and put one hand to his optics. His doorwings trembled, as did his arm as he clenched his other hand more tightly. “I wanted you. I wanted us. But I couldn’t shake the fear that I was just some rebound or that you were just humoring me. Look at me! Look at YOU!” He lowered his hand and gestured, jaw clenched. 

Knock Out ex-vented slowly. 

“You’re gorgeous. And talented. And so fragging SURE of yourself. Why would you want a rusted out, busted up old Wrecker like me?” Wheeljack’s face fell as he spoke, and he looked away. 

Silence filled the space between them. Knock Out’s field slowly extended, quivering with rage and disbelief. He stood unnaturally still, continued staring at the Wrecker, trying very hard to reign in his fury. He couldn’t even blame Wheeljack for this since he was the one who pushed the Wrecker into speaking.

“You... idiot.” The medic breathed at last, Wheeljack flinching. “You honestly think me so petty?” When the Wrecker didn’t respond, Knock Out lifted his chin. “You think I interfaced with you because you remind me of Breakdown?” He laughed harshly. 

“I didn’t want to say it, KO.”

“You shouldn’t have even thought it, slag for brains!” Knock Out’s expression twisted. “You’re not here with me because of Breakdown! You’re here with me because I asked you to be. You. Wheeljack! The evidently exceedingly arrogant, rusted out, busted up old Wrecker!”

“Arrogant?” Wheeljack protested, frowning. 

“Yes, and without any cause to be.” Knock Out folded his arms, sneering. “You call yourself a Wrecker and yet you’re standing here a self-conscious mess! YOU started this, or has your processor degraded so much that you don’t remember that part?” Wheeljack clenched his jaw, giving Knock Out the opportunity to continue. “I started out treading lightly because I wasn’t sure if you were pulling a fast one on me! Boy, I must be talented indeed if I’ve reduced you to such a whimpering pile of scrap!”

“Hey now-” Wheeljack growled, Knock Out moving quickly towards him. He braced both hands on Wheeljack’s chassis and pushed hard enough to drive the Wrecker back a step.

“And you thought this was about Breakdown?!” The red mech shouted bitterly. “You’re nothing like him! There is nothing in you that reminds me of him! This was never, ever about Breakdown!” He shoved Wheeljack again, this time leaving marks on the Wrecker’s pale chassis with his claws. 

“Then why?!” Wheeljack surged upright, field slamming into Knock Out’s. “Why’d you even give me a chance, huh?!”

“Because you gave me an opening!” Knock Out cried, this time striking Wheeljack with a closed fist. “Suddenly it wasn’t all ‘once a ‘Con, always a ‘Con,’ it was ‘oh, let me get that spot between your wheelstruts, sweet rims!’ Do you have any idea how long it’s been since someone paid me that sort of attention?! Genuinely?!”

Wheeljack’s expression was baffled now, and that just made Knock Out angrier. He raised both fists, finding them restrained by Wheeljack’s rough hands and struggling briefly to try and get away. 

“Knock Out-” Wheeljack huffed, grunting in discomfort when the medic kicked him in the shins. 

“I can’t believe you! How rude!” Knock Out attempted to free himself again but Wheeljack wasn’t letting go. “Release me!”

“Why, so you can hit me some more?” Wheeljack arched a brow. “Do you see now why I didn’t wanna say anything?”

“Yes, I can! You didn’t want the world realizing that the whole stereotype of ‘Wrecker with a soft spark’ wasn’t limited to buy-mechs and washed up porn stars!” Knock Out spat, transforming one of his hands into a buzz-saw and menacing Wheeljack with it. 

“You carve me up, you’re gonna ruin all your hard work, Red.” The Wrecker remarked, Knock Out simply growling and pressing the blade closer. 

“You were right, your mouth IS big. AND stupid.” The medic hissed. “And I AM gorgeous and talented and sure of myself and that’s why, when I’m done cutting off all of your limbs, I know I can put them all back on again once you’re done apologizing for being such an aft!!”

Wheeljack rolled his optics. “Oh please... I may have been the one to start this whole relationship, Sunshine, but YOU were the one who started this fight! I’d say that makes you the aft!”

“I would hardly call this a relationship.” Knock Out stopped struggling as hard, ex-venting shortly and glaring at the Wrecker. 

“I wouldn’t know. You’re the first mech I’ve actually stuck around with after the fragging part was over.” Wheeljack muttered, glancing away. 

“That explains a lot.” Knock Out’s tone was dry. “I guess there aren’t many one night stands that want to stick around and discuss your obvious insecurities.”

“I’m only insecure around you, Hot Wheels.” The Wrecker hesitantly released his grip and Knock Out jerked his hands away. “Guess that’s why I clammed up so much.” 

Rubbing his wrists, Knock Out stared at the paler mech in silence. Their fields were mingling, relaying the remnants of the tension they had carried. Wheeljack rubbed the scratches on his chest without looking away from the medic, his optics slightly dim. 

“You’re not as nice as he was.” Knock Out murmured. “And you seem a lot more dull-witted. But you’re more care free. Your anger is hotter, less rational. You’re not as good looking, but you’re faster. You can actually keep up with me.”

Wheeljack gazed at him with a guarded expression. “You don’t have to-” He said, Knock Out holding up a hand to silence him. 

“You have your arrogance and your insecurity... that part of you is only thing that makes you like him. And when we interfaced, Wheeljack, it wasn’t about you just taking your pleasure. You wanted to please. And I didn’t have to push you to that point.” Knock Out sighed slowly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Your root mode isn’t as bulky, so it’s easier to get close to you. Your scars...” Knock Out paused, then looked Wheeljack in the optic again. “I like your scars.”

Surprise registered on Wheeljack’s face. 

“But you’re stupid. Don’t ever do this again.” Knock Out jabbed him in the chest with one claw. 

“Then don’t ever make me.” Wheeljack sounded almost amused. “Do you feel better, knowin’ why I was actin’ like an aft?”

“Mm. Yes and no.” Knock Out shrugged, his optics taking on a distant look. 

“Sorry we didn’t get the chance to ‘face again.” Wheeljack murmured, shifting from one foot to the other. “I guess it might not be so bad, lettin’ you get your way. So long as you’re alright with me getting mine from time to time.”

Knock Out smirked at him and nodded. He leaned up on his toes and kissed Wheeljack, arching a brow. “I contemplated marking you. Giving you another scar for your collection.” He said softly. “But I don’t think that would be very Autobot of me.”

“Next time we get a break together, let’s not waste it fightin’.” Wheeljack muttered, his cooling fans clicking on and hastily aborting once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me so long to decide whether or not I actually wanted to post this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short sexy interlude just to keep the story alive.

Knock Out liked to give himself plenty of time in the morning. One could never be too sure what surprises would be waiting for them before business started for the day. Today he polished himself before heading out to grab his morning ration, giving himself more than an hour and a half before the meeting the staff had been called to. 

When he opened his door, he found himself looking in surprise at Wheeljack, who was standing just on the other side with two cubes of energon in his hands.

“Breakfast?” The Wrecker asked, his field conveying something hopeful and something awkward and his optics drifting to gaze at something off to his left.

“How lovely. You’ve saved me the trip.” Knock Out said with a smile, gesturing for him to enter. “How are you doing this morning?”

“Alright. Better, I guess, after our talk yesterday.” Wheeljack said in reply, setting the energon down on the desk. “And yourself? You doin’ okay, KO?”

“I couldn’t be doing any better, it seems.” Knock Out raised a brow. “I’m clean and polished, my boyfriend brought me breakfast and I have enough time to repay him gratuitously if he were interested.”

Wheeljack smirked at him, picking the cubes back up and offering him one. Knock Out took it, draining it as swiftly as the Wrecker did his own. 

“I’ve gotta be honest with you.” Wheeljack huffed after finishing his fuel. “I haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about the thing with the cuffs and the trustin’ you and stuff.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Knock Out licked the energon from his lip plates while maintaining eye contact with the Wrecker. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“We still got time before the meeting.” Wheeljack’s field felt far more like it did when this all began. Knock Out pressed his own forward playfully and stepped closer. “Hear the sound my fans are making? If you can make good on your boast about not spendin’ two hours cleanin’ up after then I am ready.”

“Make yourself comfortable on the berth. I’ll get the cuffs.” Knock Out said eagerly, turning to go to the cupboard. When he found the magnetic cuffs, Wheeljack was already lounging on his berth with his feet crossed and arms behind his head, looking smug and excited. “And why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

“You’re good. What’s not to be pleased about?” Wheeljack snorted. 

“I wasn’t even at my best last time. It was hasty and sloppy.” Knock Out made a face. 

“I’m disappointed Red. You give everything your best.” Wheeljack tilted his head to the side. 

“I guess you just bring out the worst in me. Hands up, Wrecker.” Knock Out demanded. 

Wheeljack responded to his command faster than either of them anticipated. His hands cuffed, he gave Knock Out a heated stare as the red mech leaned over him. His field was pulsing with desire, and the medic’s fans joined Wheeljack’s. Knock Out secured the magnetic cuffs to the wall above the Wrecker’s head and straightened, his optics raking over Wheeljack’s prone form.

“Try not to move too much. Let me do the work.” He said, Wheeljack nodding in agreement. “Spread your legs.” 

“What?” Wheeljack arched a brow.

“No time for questions or hesitations now, Jackie.” Knock Out folded his arms and Wheeljack rolled his optics. The Wrecker spread his legs, raising one of his knees slightly. “Good.” Kneeling on the end of the berth, Knock Out stretched out over Wheeljack’s frame without actually touching him. He closed his hands briefly over the Wrecker’s wrists and leaned one of his knees against his pelvic array, smiling wickedly. 

Wheeljack gave a quiet, eager rev of his engine, optics bright. Knock Out let out a brief laugh and leaned his weight on the knee between the Wrecker’s legs, listening to the sharp hitch of the paler mech’s vents. 

“Doing alright down there?” He asked softly, Wheeljack making a sound of affirmation that had static laced through it. “Do you trust me?” 

“Do I feel distrustful to you?” Wheeljack grunted, Knock Out snorting out another laugh and reaching down with one hand to trace the marks he had left on the Wrecker’s chassis the day before. 

“No. Open for me. Let’s get this show on the road.” He said, Wheeljack once again complying immediately. “Someday I’ll show you a magic trick, when we have more time.” He said, tracing a claw over one of Wheeljack’s ports and putting a touch more pressure on the Wrecker’s frame with his knee. “But today, I’ll make it quick.” 

Knock Out unspooled his cables and plugged himself in, doing the same for Wheeljack. As he hooked them up to one another, he rubbed his knee slowly and deliberately against the Wrecker’s pelvic array. Wheeljack’s field swept into his own, strong and demanding, and Knock Out made a thoughtful noise as he pushed all the lust and need he could through their bond. With all his weight atop it, the pale frame beneath him arched but couldn’t get far. Wheeljack let out a startled cry, voice cracking, and it took him a little while to recover enough to reciprocate. 

He tried to move his legs, but Knock Out put a hand on one of them and firmly stilled it. “No moving.” The red mech hissed, venting a little more quickly now. He moved both his hands to Wheeljack’s chest, further pinning him and giving him leverage enough to rock his knee against the pale frame beneath him. The pulses along their bond were quick, white hot, and Wheeljack let out a noise that bordered on frustration. He tugged on the magnetic cuffs, tried to arch upwards, but Knock Out gave him no leeway.

“KO.” Wheeljack groaned. He began pushing harder through the bond, but he had stopped struggling. “Y... y-you’re making me l-look bad.”

“Not used to finishing so fast, Wrecker?” Knock Out laughed breathlessly.

“C-can’t help it. Y-you’re so... fragging... gorgeous.” Wheeljack’s helm fell back. “You, there. A-above me... I just can’t-”

The Wrecker’s words were lost in static, Knock Out finding himself under a barrage of wild, frenzied passion. It slammed into him and his claws contracted on Wheeljack’s chest, further marring his careful paintjob. The Wrecker’s high performance engine let out a growl as overload took him, his optics white and mouth open in a silent cry. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Knock Out murmured, shuddering and grinding his knee against Wheeljack as his charge peaked and he followed the Wrecker into overload. “It’s always too much to hope that every morning will start as well as this one.” He sighed heavily when it passed, smiling down at Wheeljack.

“Glad ta... be of service.” The Wrecker slurred, optics dim. “S’a pit of a way ta wake up.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Knock Out gingerly pulled his cables free, leaning his weight off of Wheeljack.

“Yeah.” Wheeljack snickered almost drunkenly. “M’great.”

“I may have blown one of your fuses.” Knock Out unhooked Wheeljack as well, once again helping him tuck his cables away. “We don’t precisely have time for a check up, though.” 

“M’fine, jus’ fine.” Wheeljack stretched, ex-venting heavily. “Lemme up, Knock Out. We gotta meetin’ ta go to.”

“Oh for the love of Primus.” Knock Out deactivated the cuffs and stood, stretching out joints stiffened by overheating looking down at the now floundering pale mech. “You truly are ridiculous, Wheeljack. And don’t go far. I have to fix some minor damage.”

“Whatever you say, Sunshine.” Wheeljack grinned lopsidedly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some suggestive bits, robo-gore
> 
> This one has a bit of a strange perspective and takes place mostly in Knock Out's head in the beginning. I hope it's not too confusing?
> 
> Dialogue bracketed by :: :: is over the comm.

There was a hand in his chest. Someone was touching his spark.

Had he just overloaded into blackout?

Was someone trying to kill him?

Why was everything so... foggy?

“-ay with me, Knock Out.” A voice said distantly, and the hand began rhythmically squeezing. It made his mind a little clearer, made things start sliding sluggishly into focus. “Don’t you dare leave me.” 

“Why are you making it sound threatening?” Another voice hissed. “If your EM field doesn’t spook his spark into guttering, your squeezing might. What are you trying to achieve?”

“He’s too far gone for those! Just let me do this.” The first voice snarled in reply to the second. 

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that I was the CMO, not you, Wheeljack.” The second said dryly. 

Wheeljack? Wheeljack was touching his spark? They hadn’t gotten to that point yet, had they? There was a rush of pleasure that warred with the all encompassing pain he felt. He didn’t even care that someone else was in the room with them, Wheeljack was touching his spark, let that other mech watch. 

“... Wheeljack?” The second voice asked in a mix of confusion and awe. So familiar. “Ease up, I think he’s about to-”

“I know, Ratchet.” Wheeljack growled. He was saying something else, but it was lost in the sudden rush of overload. 

It hurt. Was it supposed to hurt? He could barely think, like his processor was damaged. 

“-ing great.” Wheeljack’s voice broke through the post overload haze. “Just stay with me. Ratchet, you need to take over here.” 

“Already on it.” A second set of hands was suddenly on his chassis. “I’m not sure how you knew that was going to work, but it did… somehow.” The second voice muttered. Ratchet was it? “Knock Out, I’m going to need you to tell me if I’m hurting you. I have to fix the mess that is currently posing as your chest cavity.”

He tried to raise a hand but it wouldn’t work. Strapped down? Unresponsive? He flexed his vocalizer and let out a burst of static.

Elation and relief stroked into his field and he felt a hand touch his own.

“Well, look at that. Guess you’re tougher than that shiny frame of yours lets on, Red.” Wheeljack sounded as happy as his field felt. “But don’t push yourself. I’m gonna have the Doc plug in to monitor you, just give ‘em a jab if something pains you.”

Wait… Wheeljack was a doctor? No. That wasn’t right. Wheeljack was a Wrecker. Before that though… something dangling at the edge of his processor.

::Hello Knock Out.::

Ratchet. Such wonderful bedside manner.

::Why thank you. It took me years to perfect. The war certainly helped.::

Ratchet could read minds?

::We’re diagnostically linked right now. Do you remember what happened?::

Oh. That made more sense. Ratchet was a doctor, not a telepath. So, something had happened. What was it? Why was he in this state?

::That’s right. Try to remember.::

It had something to do with Bumblebee. They were looking for Bumblebee?

::That’s how it started, yes.::

Damn Ratchet and his constant eavesdropping. So, they had been looking for Bumblebee. He was on a mission? Oh yes, that’s right. A mission involving-

Pain lanced through him and he arched off the berth. Body still not responding, spark pulsing in panic, claws flexing to reach-

::Knock Out!! Calm down before you hurt yourself even more! You’re going to be alright! You’re not out there anymore, you are in the med bay!:: Ratchet was shouting. ::Of course I’m shouting! Next time, tell me if it hurts, don’t try to attack me!::

“Wheeljack, please hold him down.” Ratchet’s voice spoken aloud was strained but calm. 

“Got it.” Wheeljack spoke very close to his audial. That was okay, good even. Strong hands on his shoulders, applying insistent pressure… It reminded him of that morning. He could remember that morning, in his hab-suite. Wheeljack cuffed to the berth, writhing and panting and overwhelmed-

::You’re kidding me.:: 

Ratchet again?! What a nosy doctor. These were private thoughts!

::And I can hear and see all of them.::

Now Ratchet sounded sour… actually more bitter than sour. Not that he could blame Ratchet. The Wrecker was more of a catch than he had imagined. 

“Wheeljack, you and I are going to have a long talk when this is done.” Ratchet said. Wheeljack was silent, but his embarrassed field spoke volumes. 

INSECTICONS! There had been Insecticons!!

::That’s it, focus on the mission.:: 

Mission? Bumblebee’s mission. He had been on a mission. Missing, three days late for check in? The Commander wanted a small team to go find him. Arcee and himself. They were fast, and Bumblebee might have needed medical attention. 

Ratchet wordlessly offered encouragement. Small zings of sensation moved through his chassis as the older mech’s hands did something or other inside his chest cavity.

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone wrong with Bumblebee! He was shot!

::No, he wasn’t. Otherwise, he’d be here on this table instead of you.:: 

But the shot had gone straight for the slowly moving former Scout. They were trying to reach the ship. Wait, the ship? Why was the ship there? He and Arcee had groundbridged in, hadn’t they? And Bumblebee was moving so slowly. Hungry? Starving. Low fuel. Sluggish movements. An Insecticon had pursued. Fired at them-

“O-o-oh-oh n-n-no-no-no…” He didn’t recognize it as his own voice at first, as laced with static and broken as it was. He felt Wheeljack jump and Ratchet’s hands jerk as the older medic muffled a curse. “I-i-i-i-idiot!!”

“I am inclined to agree with that. Anyone who pulls an Optimus Prime is an idiot in my books.” Ratchet said bitterly. “What were you thinking, pushing Bumblebee out of the way and taking that shot?”

“O-o-o-ob-obviously like-like-like an Autobot-bot-bot.” He tried rebooting his vocalizer, but more static came out. His optics were in rough shape when he brought them online, but he could dimly make out the shape of Wheeljack hovering over him and the figure of Ratchet bent near his chest. 

Wheeljack wasn’t speaking, but he didn’t need to. Knock Out could read the Wrecker’s expression and EM field like a datapad. He was angry, he was scared, concern was etched across his features very clearly. His mouth was turned down, accentuating those scars of his. He had Energon on one cheekplate and all up his arms. Charred marks up to one elbow, discharge from touching a spark while the mech it belonged to overloaded violently. 

“N-Nev-Never t-took you f-fo-for an ex-x-x-hib-bitionist.” Knock Out said, Wheeljack scowling at him. 

“Don’t make light of this.” The Wrecker said, voice low. “You almost died, KO. You scared me half to death. We just got this slag figured out, and you go and try to clock out on me? You’re in serious fraggin’ trouble.” 

“I think you’re BOTH in trouble.” Ratchet snorted, still working. “Wheeljack, make yourself useful and fix this.” 

Knock Out watched as Wheeljack took what appeared to be his fuel pump, the Wrecker hesitating before leaving Knock Out’s side. 

::I hope you realize that idiot’s in love with you.:: Ratchet muttered over the diagnostic link. 

::I can see that.:: And could he ever. Knock Out had seen that expression on a mech’s faceplate’s before. 

::Do I even need to point out that you’re in love with him, too?:: Ratchet met his optics briefly before going back to work.

“S-sp-spoilers.” Knock Out scolded. “R-r-r-rude.”

“Not if you’re only avoiding the truth.” Ratchet countered. “Your spark’s still not stable enough to put you under, if I will mute you if you continue being a moron.”

“One fixed fuel pump. As per the Doc’s orders.” Wheeljack said, moving back to the med berth. 

“And this won’t be exploding, correct?” Ratchet glanced at the Wrecker, who held up his hands. 

“No bombs.” He stated.

“... Engineer.” Knock Out murmured, drawing Wheeljack’s attention. “N-not a d-d-doctor, b-but an engineer-r-r.”

“S’right.” Wheeljack gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

“You k-k-killed that s-sn-sniper.” Knock Out felt the Wrecker’s field contract sharply.

“You mean the sniper that was systematically murdering any remaining Autobot scientists and engineers?” Ratchet snarled, something pinching within Knock Out painfully and making him vent. “You bet your battered red chassis he did. I just wish it had happened sooner.” 

“You and me both.” Wheeljack lamented, looking away. 

“Y-you bec-c-came a Wr-Wr-Wrecker to es-s-scape the sniper.” Talking was becoming easier. Knock Out reset his vocalizer a few more times with less static. He tried to reach for Wheeljack when the Wrecker’s field returned with much turmoil shifting in it, but his arms were strapped down. 

“I became a Wrecker to avenge my friends.” Wheeljack said with a hint of ice and venom, but then there was a hand in his briefly. “Hoist and Grapple. Highbrow, Brainstorm… Perceptor. I lost track of Percy during the war, but I bet the outcome was the same. They woulda had me too, but I… I got ‘em first. Got picked up by Kup and taken for trainin’ after that. Somethin’ about the old dog bein’ impressed with how I beat that piece of slag to death with my bare hands.” 

“Thank Primus all that Wrecker business didn’t wipe out your engineering training or there would have been no way to save Knock Out. I’m grateful you didn’t forget how to do more than make things blow up.” Ratchet said, the light from his welding torch reflecting off his face.

“I unders-stand a little b-better now.” Knock Out said softly.

Wheeljack looked down at him, his cyan optics dim with pain.

It was another few hours before they finished the task. Ratchet encouraged conversation between the Wrecker and the ex-Con because he didn’t want Knock Out falling asleep.

The pain was bad at times. At one point, Knock Out almost purged, but managed to fight it back so he didn’t make more of a mess than he already had. In the end, with the physical damage fixed, all that was left was trying to fix the red grounder’s spark. 

“You suffered a great deal of trauma.” Ratchet said as he mopped up the solvent on his hands. “We should probably give it a few days to recover on its own, but I’m concerned about memory fluxes during recharge overtaxing it.” 

“Nightmares?” Knock Out scoffed. “This is hardly the first time I’ve been shot.”

“First time you’ve been shot protecting someone else.” Ratched smiled slyly. “Bee will more than likely wish to thank you.” 

Shifting to try and get comfortable, Knock Out ex-vented. “Yes, I’d imagine so.” He murmured, feeling more than a little out of his element. The details were still very hazy, and he couldn’t think of a reason he had risked his own life for Bumblebee. It wasn’t his style. Usually battle had him running for cover, and his medic coding had been dampened during his service with the Decepticons. They had no room for mechs with bleeding sparks. 

“I’ll recharge here with him.” Wheeljack offered. “Keep an optic on him. We could even stay linked so I can be alerted to any fluxes Red might have.”

“You’re not recharging anywhere near me unless you go and scrub that filth off of you.” Knock Out frowned furiously at him and the Wrecker rolled his optics before moving to do as demanded. 

Ratchet was glaring at him. Glaring at them. Knock Out offered him an arched brow and a nervous smile. Wheeljack glanced over, then started doing his best impression of a turbo-fox with its tail between its legs.

“Absolutely NO interfacing until I’m certain it won’t make Knock Out’s spark gutter!” The medic shouted. “And if Ultra Magnus isn’t aware you two are fraternizing, TELL HIM. Or I will.”

“Ratchet!” Knock Out protested. 

“C’mon Doc!” Wheeljack growled. “It’s none of his fraggin’ business!”

“Don’t call me that, Wheeljack, I swear I will rearrange your face while you recharge.” Ratchet snarled. “It IS Ultra Magnus’ business considering the two of you are officers! We have laws and rules for a reason! It can only go one of two ways… either it stops, or it gets serious.” 

 

 

Arcee came to see Knock Out later that day, and while he was incredibly fatigued, the medic was eager to learn more details of what had happened. 

“You and I bridged in.” The femme said, sitting next to his berth and nursing a pilfered cube of high-grade. “The place was infested and Bee’s signal was faint. He had been boxed in and had taken cover, but he ran out of fuel two days before.” 

Knock Out reached up to pinch his nasal bridge with a short ex-vent. “Why didn’t he check in sooner?” 

“The hive had a damn dampener field in place.” Arcee’s mouth twisted downwards. “The Insecticons had found it and set it up somehow. He couldn’t check in, but he had managed to get a beacon up above the field and that’s how we found him.”

“How many did you take on?” Knock Out asked, his own cube of high-grade mostly empty and growing warm in his tight grasp. 

“Not enough.” Arcee said with a hint of regret. She gave him a searching look. “You didn’t hesitate. When we found Bee, you gave him some of your own Energon and supported him while we fled. The dampener meant we couldn’t call for a bridge… and that’s when Wheeljack showed up.” 

“He wasn’t part of the extraction team.” Knock Out smirked. “But since when does a Wrecker let things like orders deter him?” 

“Thank goodness he came. I don’t think any of us would have made it back if he hadn’t.” Arcee wrapped her arms around herself and lowered her optics. “I could hardly believe he was in any shape to fly considering how slagged he looked at the morning meeting.” 

Knock Out managed to keep the flash of guilt and surprise out of his field at that. So, it hadn’t gone unnoticed that the Wrecker looked effectively overcharged during their meeting… 

“I suppose he’s not much of a morning person.” He said in a neutral tone.

“Bulkhead says he wasn’t stupid enough to get into the high-grade before duty, and Bulk’s no liar. He wasn’t telling me the whole story though.” Arcee’s field was almost expectant. “Any ideas? You’re the doctor.”

“I am indeed.” Knock Out lifted his cube and drained the tepid remains of his high-grade to avoid answering right away. “He must really, really not be much of a morning person?” 

“Uh huh.” Arcee arched a brow. 

“So did I really shove Bumblebee out of the way, or did that Insecticon have poor aim?” Knock Out asked, setting his empty cube aside. 

“Oh, you definitely pulled an Optimus.” Arcee sounded amused, though Knock Out wasn’t sure if it was because of his actions or because of the hasty change of subject. “The shot came from behind. You spotted it in time, shoved Bee aside and took the shot right to the chest. I was sure you were a goner, but Wheeljack took out the pursuers and Bee and I got you to the ship. If it weren’t for Jackie doing a fast patch job on your major lines and keeping you from bleeding out, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

Her hand seized his and squeezed. A grateful but not quite affectionate gesture. 

“And how’s Bee now?” Knock Out ignored the touch of static in his vocalizer, resetting it and looking away before returning the squeeze and pulling his hand free. 

“Recovering. He’ll probably come by tomorrow to talk.” Arcee said. 

“When he’s back on his feet, he owes me some much needed detailing.” Knock Out smiled and met her optics, Arcee rolling hers in an unimpressed manner but flicking amusement at him through her field. “And how about you, two-wheeler? When are you going to let me pretty you up?”

“Do I come across as that girlie?” Arcee asked, folding her arms. 

“Don’t think you can hide that feminine side from me, Arcee. I see through your cool exterior.” Knock Out poked her shoulder with one claw and she made a noise of disgust. “And if you want me to keep that to myself, I definitely will.”

“I should let you rest.” Standing, Arcee stretched. “Hey Knock Out?”

“Mm?” Looking up, the Aston Martin gave the femme an inquisitive glance. 

“Take care of yourself, alright? You’re part of the team now. You don’t have to do this alone.” Her hand touched his shoulder, sliding away as she turned to leave with a softly murmured good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! I have a blog that's dedicated to things that inspire me... mostly food, cute cats, robots and pretty colors.
> 
>  
> 
> http://www.drazyrohk.tumblr.com/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this a few times before finding something I could settle on...

“So, what’re we gonna do?” 

The question was whispered in the dark, almost lost amongst the soft beeping of the monitors and the sound of their idling engines. As Wheeljack spoke, Knock Out could feel the warm air that vented against his shoulder where the Wrecker was resting his head as they did their best to share the same med berth. Cables slung between them let Wheeljack keep an eye on Knock Out, and let them convey without speaking subtle little things neither wanted to say aloud. 

“I’ve never been put in this position before.” Knock Out whispered back, one claw tracing patterns over a pale door wing. “It would probably be easier to go our separate ways rather than endure the scrutiny of our fellows and the Commander.”

“I don’t want easy.” Wheeljack had a petulant tone to his voice. Knock Out agreed wordlessly. “I almost lost you, Knock Out.” 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try my hardest to keep the heroics to a minimum.” Knock Out smiled slightly and Wheeljack leaned back to look at him. “I honestly don’t know what came over me.”

“You had me so fragged up this morning, I didn’t realize what had happened till after you were already gone.” Wheeljack was speaking low but quick, and his EM field registered something close to panic. “Bulkhead was asking me if I was drunk on the job, of course I fraggin’ well wasn’t, he knows me better than that but I was out of it… An’ then it hit me that you an’ ‘Cee had gone out there by yourselves. She’s good in a fight, but you? You’re a medic, a damn non-combatant. It made my Energon curdle thinkin’ whatever mighta got Bee got you too.” 

“So you stole Ultra Magnus’ ship?” Knock Out raised a brow and reached up a claw to trace the lines furrowed between the Wrecker’s optics from the force of his frown, the scars on his mouth. 

“You think I’d be here right now if I had stolen it?” Wheeljack said, the red grounder making a noise of understanding. “I impressed upon him the importance of goin’ to find you two. Said you needed backup.” 

“I bet he found that so very responsible. So un-Wrecker of you.” Knock Out murmured. 

“Somethin’ to that end. I busted my aft findin’ you. ‘Cee was fighting them off the best she could, and you had Bee’s arm around your shoulders, shuffling him along. That damn bug came up outta nowhere. I think…” Wheeljack reached up a hand and rubbed his optics. “I think Arcee knows. She heard me talkin’ to you in the ship while Bee was gettin’ us outta there. I was begging, KO. I was so fraggin’ scared.” 

“You’ve lost companions before.” Knock Out frowned at him. He didn’t like being the cause of such weakness in someone like Wheeljack. 

“None of them got under my plates like you have. None of them were worth enough to me to make me stay like this. What the frag is it about you?” There was familiar anger and loss and confusion in the Wrecker’s field now. “Primus, you make me feel like a damn bitlet.” 

“And here I was, thinking we had already talked enough for one lifetime.” Knock Out ex-vented. “Said all there was to say.” 

“Sorry. S’been a long day. Maybe I’ll be tougher stuff tomorrow.” Wheeljack muttered, sounding resigned. 

“Oh my soft sparked Wrecker.” Knock Out cooed, cupping Wheeljack’s face in his hands. He kissed the Wrecker’s cheek plates with a smile, feeling them heat. “My poor, poor little bitlet. My sweet, sensitive Wheeljack.” 

“You’re askin’ for a punch.” Wheeljack said indignantly. 

“Maybe that’s the sort of thing I like, you never know! All these things we keep revealing to one another, peeling back layers like old paint and rusted armor plating.” Knock Out hissed dramatically, Wheeljack snickering and leaning forward to kiss him on the mouth. 

It was deeper this time. There was glossa involved. Knock Out let it go on until he felt the charge travel through their combined oral lubricant, pulling away with a muffled sound of discomfort. 

“Keep that up and nothing is going to taste right.” He said against Wheeljack’s mouth. “But hey… that was actually pretty nice.” 

“Guess we just had to practice.” Wheeljack huffed, a hint of static in his voice. “I don’t wanna piss Ratchet off by goin’ around his orders, but I’m tempted to say he can go frag himself.” 

“I can honestly say that he’s probably right. Interfacing right now wouldn’t do me any favors.” Knock Out said with regret, settling back again. Wheeljack hesitated, then settled against him. Warm silence passed between them, then Knock Out vented slowly. “But what ARE we going to do? The Commander’s going to want some sort of explanation.” 

“I’ll figure something out.” Wheeljack’s voice was muffled. He had his face pressed into Knock Out’s shoulder again. “We should rest. You should rest. I’ll be here… I’ve got you, Knock Out.”

 

Recovery took time. Recovery made Ratchet lenient in his threats. Ultra Magnus came to see Knock Out (to give him the requisite paperwork excusing him from his duties till he was deemed fit to return to them) but made no mention of Wheeljack. 

They still had time to figure out what to do, it seemed. 

There was apparently no stopping the rumor mill. Smokescreen came to see Knock Out, confessed that he and Arcee had been talking about it and that the femme had taken it upon herself to tell Bulkhead before he found out from someone else. 

Bumblebee casually mentioned it when he came to check in after a few days recovering himself. He said it had been very easy to see there was something going on from the way Wheeljack acted during the rescue. 

“He practically shoved me into the pilot’s seat. Shouted something about ‘I have to save him!’ and his field was a mess of worry and grief.” Bee murmured. “He said something about Arcee’s small hands being better suited to helping him… you were bleeding pretty bad. I’ve never seen a Wrecker move so fast before.” 

“And you’re doing alright?” Knock Out shifted uncomfortably on the med berth, averting his gaze. 

“I’m fine. Once I got fuelled up, I slept for an entire day and then was back on my feet. I had to debrief, you know how long that can take, so I haven’t had a chance to see you till now. I wanted to thank you. You saved my life.” Bee was smiling fondly at him and Knock Out merely shrugged and made a soft indeterminate noise. “Before you got shot up, your finish was looking great. You obviously didn’t suffer much in my absence.” 

“It started as a misunderstanding.” Knock Out said with a faint grimace, looking back at Bumblebee. “I had my back turned, the med bay doors opened and I was expecting it to be you. I made a fool of myself and what was Wheeljack’s reaction? He starts flirting…”

Bee didn’t laugh. Knock Out couldn’t even feel anything in his field and had to give the younger mech credit. “But I think you made out good in the end. You got the detailing you had asked me to do, and probably more than I would have given you, too.” 

That made Knock Out look back at the former Scout in surprise. “What?” He said in mock indignation, pressing a hand to his chest briefly before pulling it away with a wince. The wounds were welded but still tender, after all. “Are you implying you had no interest in being more than buff buddies? How could you possibly resist a frame this fine?” 

This time, Bee did laugh, and Knock Out managed a few wheezing chuckles himself. 

“I’ve really got no time for that sort of thing, Knock Out.” Bumblebee said, patting Knock Out’s arm. “Besides, it would have made it much less amusing to tease you.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them, Knock Out finding comfort in it. 

“I still can’t figure out why I did it.” He said, Bumblebee looking up at him. “I’ve never come to the rescue before. I asked once… begged, really, but was denied the opportunity. Maybe some part of me wanted to avoid a similar fate…” He trailed off, Bee moving his stool a little closer and allowing his field to engulf Knock Out. Comfort, reassurance, grief and a curious possessiveness registered, Knock Out reaching up to rub his optics wearily. 

“You did good, Knock Out. You acted just as Optimus said you had.” Bumblebee murmured, and Knock Out realized he hadn’t bothered putting his hands anywhere on the battered red frame in front of him. He was the first of the Autobots not to get all touchy feely without permission. “You acted like a Prime. Maybe there’s finally some good role models in your life?”

Knock Out snorted, rolling his optics. “I wouldn’t consider the influence you Autobots have had on me good. I did almost die.” 

“I think you and Wheeljack are good for each other. If you need someone to stick up for you in front of the Commander, I’ll do it.” Bee offered, Knock Out shaking his helm. 

“Why do the Autobots have to have rules for everything?” He asked in exasperation. 

“We weren’t exactly winning the war, Knock Out.” Bumblebee replied. “We had to get rid of every distraction we possibly could. That included romance amongst the ranks.” 

“We’re not at war anymore.” Knock Out said miserably. “I honestly don’t feel like I should be forced to make a decision this huge.” 

 

Wheeljack couldn’t think of a place he would want to be less than where he was right now. Cornered like a rat by his best friend in a dark hall, subjected to a betrayed scowl and a furious EM field… he would prefer being strung up by Starscream in the hold of the Nemesis!

“You should have told me yourself!” Bulkhead protested, low enough that they wouldn’t be overheard. 

“I didn’t think there was anythin’ to tell!” Wheeljack said, his door wings twitching against the wall. “For all I knew at first, it was the same as any of the other times have been! He’s not the first mech I’ve taken to berth, Bulkhead.” 

“I know that. But it really explains what was wrong with you the other day, during the meeting.” Bulkhead still looked betrayed, but a little of the fury was beginning to evaporate. “The last time I saw you that slagged without touching high-grade, it was that night after a mission when you and Perceptor-”

“Stop talking.” Wheeljack growled, Bulkhead falling silent and the two of them lapsing into communication via glaring. “I don’t need this.” Wheeljack finally said after a moment. “I have enough to worry about right now.”

“Ratchet says Knock Out will be fine.” Bulkhead said with a snort. “You don’t need to worry about him.” 

“No, I do gotta worry about him, because I told him I’d figure out what to say to the Commander before Ratchet spills!” Wheeljack snarled. “We were told we had two choices, Bulk. Either go our separate ways and pretend this never happened, or … or…”

“Or send the Commander a well worded Conjux application? Complete with proper citations and grammar?” Bulkhead rolled his optics. “See? You didn’t even think about that, did you? That’s why you shoulda told me, Jackie.”

“Bulkhead, if I can’t even SAY the word, what makes you think I wanna apply for it?” Wheeljack’s door wings rattled and he stepped forward to move them away from the wall. “I don’t know the first thing about bein’ in a proper relationship and all I wanna do right now is get on Magnus’ ship and run!” 

“Not this time.” Bulkhead folded his arms and stood as an immovable wall before the pale mech. “If I have to sit on you, I will. You’re not running this time.”

“... Losing him might kill me.” Wheeljack said, now trembling to the point where clenching his fists was doing nothing to hide it. 

“And running would mean losing him.” Bulkhead reached out and put his hands on Wheeljack’s shoulders, huffing. “Look, I can’t say I’ve ever been in your position before, Jackie, but we’re Wreckers. We look out for one another. Since you didn’t tell me about this in the first place, you owe it to me to help you out.” 

“I don’t feel much like a Wrecker right now.” Wheeljack’s door wings lost their terrified cant, drooping in defeat. “I feel like a… a… kitten. All clumsy and soft.” 

Bulkhead made a thoughtful noise, pulling his hands away and stepping back to give Wheeljack more room. “I have no trouble handling Ultra Magnus, so leave that part to me. I know you’re not the best at expressing your feelings, so maybe you ought to talk to Bumblebee and Arcee about that part.”

“I don’t wanna drag anyone else into this, and I certainly don’t wanna be tellin’ the rest of-”

“They already know.” Bulkhead interrupted, Wheeljack deflating further. “Arcee got suspicious during the rescue and figured it out for sure after talking to Knock Out. And Bumblebee was a Scout for most of his life, you can’t hide stuff from-”

“Aaaaugh, blah blah blah fine!” Wheeljack drew himself back up and ex-vented shortly. “Wreckers don’t call for backup.” 

“But they do call for cleanup. And you’ve got a fine mess here.” Bulkhead smiled reassuringly. “Let us help you. We’re all a team, right?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mooooosh
> 
> Haha, but seriously, there's more robot sex.

Knock Out had seen a ‘self help’ tip in a movie once. A human urged his friend to breathe in and breathe out slowly, count to ten and try to calm himself. He was doing his best impression of the technique now as he watched Wheeljack wear a path in the floor with his pacing. The Wrecker’s EM field practically filled the room. 

It was the most pathetic thing he’d ever seen Wheeljack do. It was downright disgraceful.

“Are you quite finished?” He asked in a level voice, Wheeljack muttering something incoherent and turning for another circuit. “You’re making it difficult to concentrate on my work.” 

“Don’t care.” The Wrecker mumbled, not pausing in his pacing. There were bits and pieces that Knock Out could catch without turning up his audio sensitivity. Things like “Why’s it takin’ so long” and “Shoulda heard somethin’ by now.”

“You seem awfully distraught.” Knock Out observed casually, Wheeljack turning a dirty look on him before practically throwing himself against the wall with his arms folded tight over his chest. 

“How fraggin’ long does it take the Commander to read his damn reports?” The Wrecker ground out. 

“Since when do you care about reports?” Knock Out threw his hands in the air and turned fully to face Wheeljack. He put his hand on his hip and glared. “I’m not so sure I like this fussy, childish side of you, sweetspark.”

“It’s important.” Wheeljack said petulantly, shoving himself upright and going back to his pacing. 

“You need to unwind.” Knock Out rolled his optics. “Either wait a few clicks for me to finish my work and we can take a break together, or get out of my med bay and go frag yourself until you feel better.” 

At least it made the Wrecker fall silent, even if it only stopped him in his tracks briefly. 

He waited. Knock Out wasn’t surprised. It had been quite a time since they had been allowed to interface. Knock Out had only been discharged a week ago with the orders to ‘take it easy.’

“You’ve got patrol tonight.” Wheeljack said quietly, a hint of hopeful disappointment in his voice. 

“I can ask Smokescreen to do it. He’s been clamoring for some way to get me to fix his paint.” Knock Out replied without looking up from his report. He clicked a few boxes, swiped some lines clear and penned in some requests. 

“Magnus won’t like that.” Wheeljack’s voice was even more quiet now, and Knock Out ex-vented slowly as he finished off a line of text. 

“As long as it gets done and I submit the proper paperwork, it won’t matter.” He said patiently, sending off the report and opening a new page. He penned a request to Smokescreen and signed it, sending it away as he pinged the younger mech via their private comms.

::Hey Doc Knock. How’s it going?:: Smokescreen asked almost immediately.

::I need you to cover for me tonight. I sent over the paperwork just now, if you could respond as soon as possible?:: Knock Out kept his glyphs business like.

::Uuuuh… sure. I’m not busy. What’s in it for me?:: There was a hopeful little glyph attached to the reply, and Knock Out could admire the former Elite Guard being upfront. 

::I’ll replace those 38s.:: He said bluntly, receiving a happy face as a response. ::I’ll send you the shift schedule. Thank you.::

::No problem, KO!::

It took another few minutes to get the signed and returned request from the kid, but Knock Out managed to get a few more requisition forms done in the meantime. When he had sent the last one away, he picked up his data pad and straightened with a soft noise of appreciation. 

Wheeljack was still standing across the bay from him, no longer pacing but still twitching his door wings in what Knock Out recognized as anxious anticipation. 

“Finished. Just have to drop this off with the Commander. Grab us our rations and meet me at my suite.” The medic said shortly, waving the data pad and moving to the door. 

For someone who didn’t like taking orders, Wheeljack didn’t hesitate when Knock Out demanded something of him. Once upon a time, the former Decepticon would have found that delightful, seeing as it would have given him an obvious edge and an easy way to control an individual. 

It unsettled his tanks now.

Brow furrowed and optics dim, Knock Out headed to Ultra Magnus’ office. The Commander beckoned him when he knocked, glancing up briefly from his own data pad when Knock Out entered. 

“Hello Doctor. What can I help you with?” He asked, ticking something off on the pad before putting it down and very deliberately fixing his full attention on the medic. That was rather unnerving… 

“I need to take some personal time tonight. I’m not feeling up to snuff and would rather not do patrol in lieu of getting an early recharge.” Knock Out held up his pad. “I filled out the forms and requested a shift switch with Smokescreen. He accepted, we just need you to sign off on it, sir.”

Grunting in affirmation, Ultra Magnus took the pad and glanced over it, nodding. “Seems to be in order. Everything alright, Knock Out?”

“Yes, of course.” The red grounder smiled and bowed his head. “It’s just as I said… a little tired tonight, sir.” 

“Very well. I’d rather all my officers be at their best, so I’ll sign off on this. Enjoy your rest.” Ultra Magnus handed him back the data pad, reaching for his own again. Knock Out thanked him and turned to go. “By the way, Knock Out… When are you going to submit your application? I’ve had Wheeljack’s for the better part of a week now.”

Application? What application? Knock Out paused before turning, wracking his brain for-

“Oh no.” He said, Ultra Magnus looking up at him in surprise. “Uh, I must have forgotten it in my… excitement. I’ll get right on that, Commander.”

“Of course.” Ultra Magnus nodded at him again and Knock Out hurried out of the room. His feet carried him as fast as he dared to his quarters, his spark pounding in his chest. 

Wheeljack was where he had told him to be, still moping but with door wings held high in excitement. He glanced at Knock Out when he approached, opening his mouth to speak before closing it with a click when the medic’s EM field touched his. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked immediately, worry staining his field. 

“Tell me you aren’t that stupid.” Knock Out had a pleading tone to his voice and he didn’t even care. He took the cubes that the Wrecker was holding, setting them across the hall on the floor and returning to grab hold of Wheeljack’s arms. His grip was tight, claws digging in. “Tell me you didn’t do it.”

“Uh… did the Commander say somethin’?” Wheeljack felt uncertain and his optics darted around the hall as if he were searching for unseen listeners. 

“As a matter of fact, he did.” Knock Out gripped a little tighter, gritting his denta before continuing. “He asked me where my application was, Wheeljack.” 

“Y-yeah?” More uncertainty, and a brief flash of horror. The Wrecker wasn’t trying to get away from him, but Knock Out could feel his panic. 

“You are aware of the fact that both parties in a bond have to submit an application to become Conjux Endurae, aren’t you?” Knock Out stared at him, begging with his field and his posture. 

Wheeljack tensed under his hands, then his optics fluttered closed and he hissed between clenched denta. Knock Out groaned, hanging his helm. 

“They never told me that.” The Wrecker muttered, making Knock Out look up again sharply. 

“They?” The medic growled. “Who are they?”

“Arcee and Bumblebee helped me fill out the application. It had to be right.” Wheeljack’s voice was getting higher pitched as he protested. “They didn’t say anythin’ about you fillin’ one out too!”

“Have none of you Autobots ever done this before?!” Knock Out cried, shaking the Wrecker weakly. 

“Apparently not!” There was definite panic in Wheeljack’s response and now both of them were shouting. 

“When you said you’d figure this out, THIS IS NOT WHAT I EXPECTED YOU TO DO!” More shaking, and Wheeljack closed his hands around Knock Out’s arms in an attempt to pry them off. 

“I thought we agreed we didn’t wanna take the easy route!” The Wrecker snarled. 

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to do this without telling me!! I am not a telepath!! How was I supposed to know you’d do this without telling me?!” Knock Out wailed. 

“I didn’t wanna leave you so this was the only choice I had so we didn’t both end up gettin’ stripped of our positions and possibly thrown in jail!” Wheeljack shouted back, someone resetting their vocalizer behind the two and drawing their attention. 

“I think it might be best for you both to actually go into the room before having a lovers’ spat?” Arcee said, arching a brow at them. She was flanked by a few civilians and workers, all of whom exchanged glances with one another. 

“She’s probably right.” Wheeljack muttered. 

“Let me just… get our cubes. You know the door code.” Knock Out said weakly, moving to retrieve their rations and giving Arcee a long suffering look before following Wheeljack into his room. “Nothing to see here! No loitering in the hall!” He called over his shoulder, making sure to lock the door once it closed. 

Embarrassment seethed off of the Wrecker, who stood across the room with shoulders and door wings slumped. 

“Was he upset? Magnus?” Wheeljack asked, Knock Out looking at him as if he had grown an extra head. “If I screwed up our chances-” 

“He wasn’t upset, so that application of yours must have been VERY tidy.” Knock Out interrupted, setting the cubes on his table and pinching his nasal bridge. “I know well enough how to make a disgustingly polite and well written request. I used to do that to my professors before the war broke out. I just hope it holds up to whatever it is that you gave him that made him so fragging casual about it all.” 

Panic, panic, panic. It was dizzying how much of it was waving off of the Wrecker now. 

“I’m sorry KO.” And now they were back to nicknames. “I told you, I’m no good at this relationship stuff.”

Turning to face Wheeljack, Knock Out folded his arms and vented quietly. “I usually don’t mind surprises… but do try to keep in mind that my spark isn’t what it used to be.” He said, Wheeljack grimacing. “Normally before applications are even submitted, one half of the partnership offers a gift and asks the other formally.” 

Wheeljack said nothing, though he did draw himself up and was no longer looking like a sparkling caught with his hand in the jar of Energon goodies. 

“Before we go through with this… I want to set some ground rules.” Knock Out looked away, tapping his claws against his own arm. “Just so we can avoid any more long, awkward conversations and misunderstandings.” 

“Alright.” Wheeljack grunted. 

“First of all, no more world changing impulsive decisions from you.” Looking back, Knock Out jabbed a claw in Wheeljack’s direction. “And certainly no more assumptions about your place at my side. As already discussed, you are with me because I want you to be with me.”

“Got it.” 

“Under no circumstances am I the one calling all the shots, Wheeljack. You’re disturbingly quick to jump when I say to and I don’t want that.” This garnered a surprised expression from the Wrecker, and Knock Out approached him carefully, arms still folded. “Whenever I demand something, you do it without question. You’ve even stopped grumbling. I want a partner, a lover, not a servant.” 

“I didn’t even realize I was doin’ that.” Wheeljack muttered, rubbing the back of his helm in discomfort. “I was just tryin’ hard not to screw this up.” 

“Do yourself a favor… just be yourself.” Knock Out reached up and put a hand on the Wrecker’s face. “You don’t need to win me over. You already managed to do that, somehow.”

The tension melted out of Wheeljack’s shoulders and he ex-vented with his optics offline. 

“You’re going to screw up.” Knock Out continued. “So am I. But if we’re going to be together, that’s the sort of thing we will work through together. I’m not going anywhere, and neither, I trust, are you.” 

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Wheeljack said firmly, his field conveying the truth of his words and a reassurance that Knock Out wasn’t entirely sure was for him. 

“I still can’t believe you did this to me. I had been toying with the thought of ‘proposing’ as the humans would say, but was so caught up with recovery and catching up on my work that I didn’t have time to get a gift together.” Knock Out smiled as he spoke and Wheeljack managed a lopsided smirk of regret in return. “Now, enough of this dourness. I got my time off. Let’s not waste it arguing.” 

“Was thinkin’...” Wheeljack shrugged one shoulder and pressed his face into Knock Out’s hand. “You could show me that… magic trick?” 

Knock Out’s optics widened and he snickered. “You really like being at my mercy, don’t you Wrecker?” He purred.

“The only person I’ve ever been pinned down by was Bulkhead and that was a long, LONG time ago. Everyone else… well, they figure if I’m the big bad Wrecker, I ought to be doin’ the pinning.” Wheeljack’s cheeks were heated and Knock Out pulled his hand away with a grin. “Sometimes, it’s nice to just give up control.”

“I will show you the magic trick if you promise me one thing.” Knock Out leaned up until their faces practically touched, hearing Wheeljack’s fans click on. 

“Anything at all, Hot Wheels.” The Wrecker breathed. 

“Try to last a little longer this time.” Knock Out said, his grin turning wicked. Wheeljack shuddered as he pulled away, the medic moving to retrieve his magnetic cuffs again. “Now, how do you feel about careful application of non life threatening shocks?”

Wheeljack made a half strangled, curious, distressed noise and gave him a look that made him bite back a laugh. 

“If done right, it doesn’t hurt. I promise… I’m very good at this. Just in case, why don’t we use a safe word? Something easy to remember but something you wouldn’t normally say during interfacing.” Knock Out urged him to lay back on the berth, securing his hands the way he had before. 

“How bout Magnus?” Wheeljack offered, twitching a brow. 

“Ha!” Knock Out’s field filled with genuine amusement. “That works. Magnus it is. Open your pelvic array, please and thank you.” 

Wheeljack stared at him for a moment, then shook his helm and did as requested. “Never had a partner as interested in that as you are.” He said. “Maybe spendin’ so much time on Earth gave you funny ideas.” 

“I admit, this little trick was influenced heavily by all those movies I watched in my spare time.” Knock Out settled himself on his knees at the end of the berth, pushing Wheeljack’s legs apart. He raised one of his hands and rubbed his claws together, making a thoughtful noise. “Need to generate a bit of charge.” 

Crawling onto the berth, Knock Out carefully positioned himself above the Wrecker. Wheeljack looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Need a volunteer from the audience?” The Wrecker asked, Knock Out snickering at him. “M’pretty sure I can get you revved even while I’m tied up.” 

“Only if I’m being cooperative and I lean close enough.” Knock Out teased, cupping Wheeljack’s face again and pressing his thumb against the paler mech’s lip plates. He trailed his hand down, sliding claws between plates and pressing into transformation seams, making Wheeljack shift and let out a noise of appreciation. 

“Whose charge you tryin’ to jack up? Mine or yours?” Wheeljack asked, Knock Out leaning down to sink denta into the Wrecker’s neck cables. He bucked, the medic pushing him back down and working claws under his chest plates. “Haah, KO…”

“Relax.” Knock Out purred against his throat, claws rubbing against the sensitive protoform beneath the Wrecker’s pale plating. Soon, when he had static crackling beneath his touch, he pulled back. Wheeljack let out a little moan of regret. Shuffling back to the end of the berth, Knock Out once again rubbed his claws together. This time, sparks flew. “And on to the main event!”

Focusing charge on the tip of one of his slender claws, Knock Out looked up at Wheeljack. The Wrecker’s head was back, his optics dim, his mouth slightly open… he looked relaxed, he looked ecstatic. 

“Ready for this, Wheeljack?” Knock Out asked quietly, meeting Wheeljack’s gaze and smiling as he gave a hesitant nod. 

The red grounder inserted his claw into one of the ports on Wheeljack’s pelvic array, and the effect was so utterly satisfying. Wheeljack arched with a choked cry, his legs moving up towards his body and his hands clenching. He twisted to try and free himself from the magnetic cuffs, his optics went white before he offlined them, and there was a hint of relief in his field when Knock Out pulled his claw away. 

“Are you alright?” The medic asked, Wheeljack letting out a staticky affirmative. Leaning down, Knock Out pressed his glossa, slick with oral lubricant, against the offended port in an effort to soothe it. He gave Wheeljack a moment to determine whether he wanted more or whether he was going to use the safeword, not breaking eye contact. 

The Wrecker raised his hips a little in encouragement and Knock Out smiled. Leaning back, he applied his charged claw to a different port, and Wheeljack grit his denta hard as he rolled his hips up into the red grounder’s touch. Fans squealing, the Wrecker let out a sound that he would probably never admit to being a whimper. As soon as Knock Out let up, he sank gratefully against the berth and the medic trailed kisses up his thigh before once again soothing the charged node with his glossa. 

“S-some f-fraggin’ magic trick.” Wheeljack gasped. “What’s your t-technique?” 

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Knock Out said without moving his mouth away from Wheeljack’s array, giving him another slow lick before pulling back. “Still alright?”

“Oh yeah.” Wheeljack gave him a rather drunken smirk, so Knock Out pressed his charged palm flat against the Wrecker’s frame and had him arching with a startled cry. As soon as he pulled his hand free, Knock Out returned his claw to the first port, and Wheeljack keened desperately. The medic’s free hand braced against the Wrecker’s thigh, pushing it down and apart since it seemed Wheeljack was attempting to wrap both legs around him. He pulled free of the port, draping Wheeljack’s other leg over his shoulder as the Wrecker sobbed. 

“You’re doing so well, Wheeljack.” Knock Out said encouragingly, the paler mech letting out a harsh burst of static. He soothed the port once more, rubbing along the Wrecker’s legs in a comforting manner. “Have you guessed what the trick is?”

“No… c-cables.” Wheeljack panted, so charged now his frame was dragging static with every movement. “W-wanna… finish.” 

“Not till I say the magic words.” Knock Out dipped his claws into the seam of Wheeljack’s thigh where it met his frame, stroking along cables and smoothing out wires twisted by the Wrecker’s writhing. 

“Then give me more.” Wheeljack demanded sharply, his optics bright as he looked down at the medic. “R-really startin’ to enjoy it.” 

“That is the goal here, after all.” Knock Out gave him no warning, this time charging two claws and hitting both ports at once. 

A broken, ragged shriek escaped Wheeljack and Knock Out had to hold him down. He applied the charge as long as he dared, his own vents working hard and his fans roaring just from the sight of the Wrecker’s passion. Wheeljack was trying to say his name, was trying to grind against him, and Knock Out rubbed his cheek against the Wrecker’s thigh with a soft vent. 

“Abracadabra.” He said, Wheeljack cursing furiously as he allowed the charge surging through him to peak and crashed into overload. 

Frame rolling and arching, hands clenching and unclenching and straining to escape their bonds, denta clenched and optics sparking, it was a beautiful sight. Knock Out watched him wistfully, one claw tracing over his array to prolong it, then the medic pushed himself further upright, unspooled his cables and plugged himself in. 

“Hn-hnngh, Knock Ouuut!” Wheeljack’s back bowed off the berth, and Knock Out let himself be subjected to the fresh current that moved through the Wrecker’s frame. His own overload wasn’t nearly as violent, but it was good enough. “Aaah haah, I love this… l-love you... “

“Hm… do you now?” Knock Out shivered and reached down to pull his cables free gently. “It’s not just the magic talking?”

“No.” Wheeljack panted, still trying to tug himself free. “Not the magic. Just you.”

There was something raw and so very real in the Wrecker’s EM field as Knock Out straddled his waist and undid the cuffs. He surged upwards, his arms moving around Knock Out, gripping tight… he kissed the medic jubilantly. 

“I don’t care.” He said against Knock Out’s mouth. “I don’t care if it makes me weak. I don’t care if I’m less of a mech for it. I love you.” 

“Why in the name of Primus would that make you less of a mech?” Knock Out asked with an arched brow, settling comfortably against the Wrecker. 

“You keep tellin’ me that I’m bein’ too soft. Teasin’ me when I get sappy.” Wheeljack kissed him again, one hand cupping the back of Knock Out’s helm roughly. “But I don’t care this time. I love you.” 

“You’re not being sappy, you’re being assertive.” Knock Out said with a touch of static. “I could learn to love an assertive mech with interesting scars, an impulsive nature and a very foul mouth.” 

“You better.” Wheeljack grunted, smirking. “Cause once you fill out that application, there’s no turnin’ back.” 

“Still can’t believe you did that.” Knock Out tugged on Wheeljack’s bottom lip plate with his denta, ex-venting. “I’ve never filled out one of those damn applications before. Never needed a document to express how I feel about someone. You Autobots and your rules.”

Wheeljack dragged him closer, hands roaming over his frame. It was as if the Wrecker were trying to make them into one mechanism. 

“You silly bastard.” Knock Out muttered. “I guess I love you too.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for something a little different.

Ultra Magnus had a lot to do in a day. He had paperwork to sign, reports to read through, schedules to maintain, soldiers to debrief, and all of this left little time for him to bother with watching the security feed from the multitude of cameras around the base. 

He started delegating some of his officers to the paperwork and reports, freeing up time to get a better idea of what his people were doing day to day. He couldn’t lie and say it was just out of curiosity…

With two Conjux applications now sitting in a desk drawer, he wanted to know if Wheeljack and Knock Out were having him on or if they actually were as madly in love as the applications implied. 

Knock Out had disconnected the camera in his hab-suite. He had also disconnected one of the two cameras in the med bay. This made Ultra Magnus feel deeply disappointed, but he also couldn’t fault the medic for bad habits. 

It called for an intervention, however. A quick check of the schedule showed that Knock Out had some free time that evening, and Ultra Magnus penned a request to meet for fuel and conversation. The response he got was as eloquent as he had come to expect from Knock Out, the medic even suggesting a time that worked for both of them. 

“Good evening Commander.” Knock Out called jovially when Ultra Magnus entered the rec room. “I must say, Commander, you’re looking a little run down. When are you going to come see me about that hand?” He took the hook that Ratchet had created on Earth in his hand and let out a tsk. 

“Good evening Knock Out. With all that’s been happening, I haven’t had the time to set aside for a lengthy medical procedure.” Ultra Magnus explained calmly, gesturing to a table. “Why don’t you take a seat? I’ll get us our evening rations.” 

Knock Out bowed his head respectfully and sat, Ultra Magnus watching his body language as he moved away. There wasn’t any outward nervousness, though he knew the medic had been avoiding him. There wasn’t any shaking, any fear at all that he could see, but Knock Out’s field was tucked in so tightly that it was difficult to get a clear read. 

Retrieving two cubes of Energon, he returned to the table and took the other seat. “I wanted to discuss a few concerns I’ve unearthed over last week. You’ve disabled two cameras in your work area and your hab-suite.”

“Ah yes.” Knock Out picked up his cube, passing it from hand to hand in what Ultra Magnus registered as a distinctly nervous gesture. “Well, I have to admit that I find the subject of cameras in hab-suites a touchy one. It’s our personal area, where we recharge, where we interface if the occasion calls for it… should there really be people checking in on us there?”

“You raise valid concerns, but the cameras are as much for your safety as they are for ours.” Ultra Magnus tried to give off a calm, relaxing field. “If there’s some sort of emergency, or if someone or something gets into your hab-suite while you’re recharging, we need to be able to see it to stop it.”

“I would really prefer to install proximity sensors that are coded to my spark frequency.” Knock Out took a sip of his Energon. “That would suffice, yes?”

“Yes. That would suffice. But the med-bay-” Ultra Magnus began, Knock Out holding up a hand. 

“Commander, the health care of my patients is confidential. I was merely attempting to make a more comfortable environment for them while I tend to their ills.” He explained. 

Ultra Magnus paused, getting the distinct feeling that the medic wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. “Be that as it may, Knock Out, we need to be able to monitor all areas of the base. If something should happen, we need adequate time to respond.” 

Knock Out made a noise of irritation and looked down at his cube. Apparently, he had no solution for this one. “Very well.” He sighed after a moment. “I will acquiesce to the camera in the med-bay being turned back on.” 

“Thank you for your cooperation, doctor.” Ultra Magnus nodded. “It really is for your safety.” 

 

Over the next few days, the Commander kept an eye on not only the cameras, but the subjects themselves. He would never admit to sneaking… Ultra Magnus didn’t sneak. He was however being cautious about being seen by both Wheeljack and Knock Out, wanting to catch them in candid encounters so he could judge their behavior for himself.

“Ow!” The sharp cry came from behind the not quite closed med-bay door, and Ultra Magnus stopped. He hadn’t been intending to stop here, but it warranted examination. “Watch it!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did your squirming cause me to harm you?” Knock Out’s voice asked, dripping acid and discontent. “I don’t understand why you can’t just stay still!” 

“Because you keep hurting me.” Wheeljack growled furiously. 

Ultra Magnus frowned. This didn’t seem like healthy behavior… 

“I wouldn’t keep hurting you if you would just stay still. Is that so hard to grasp, Wrecker?” Knock Out sighed dramatically, then there was the sound of the stasis cuffs on the med berth deploying. “There.” Now the medic was purring. “Is that better?”

Ultra Magnus’ mouth turned down and he vented slowly. His suspicions were being confirmed, it seemed. 

A welder started in the med-bay, then Wheeljack whined pitifully before yelping in pain again.

“Well if you hadn’t let it fester for two days before letting me tend to it, it wouldn’t be so bad!” Knock Out cried, and from here, Ultra Magnus could clearly feel the regret in his field. 

“Wreckers don’t call for backup… that goes for medical care too.” Wheeljack ground out, hissing furiously when the welder began again. “Fraggit, Red, are you doin’ that on purpose?!” 

“I would never hurt you on purpose.” Knock Out urged. “Now stay very still… this is going to be hard enough without you trying to jump off the berth.” 

Ultra Magnus crept away, leaving them to it. He was sufficiently horrified that Knock Out may have been using the med-bay for interfacing purposes, but confident that the two mechs did indeed have a measure of care for one another.

Maybe he would benefit more from speaking to the other officers rather than sneaking about.

 

Arcee was easy enough to engage, it was easy to approach the subject both naturally and casually. “My thoughts?” She queried when he asked about the union between their comrades. “Despite their seemingly conflicting personalities, it might be the best thing for both of them. They’ve… mellowed. And Wheeljack showing commitment to a mech like that? Bodes well for his ability to commit to other things.”

“I guess I didn’t think about it that way.” Ultra Magnus murmured to his second. “You’re quite possibly right about that. Wheeljack’s always been more the type to run away from something like this.” 

“I was there in the shuttle after Knock Out was shot.” Arcee’s mouth turned down. “Wheeljack kept it together remarkably, but you could tell how scared he was. I’ve never seen a Wrecker get scared before… He begged Knock Out to hold on. If that’s not love, I dunno what is, sir.” 

He thanked her before heading on his way with a lighter spark. 

 

“There’s definitely an attraction between the two.” Smokescreen shifted from one foot to the other, avoiding eye contact, and Ultra Magnus pushed patience at him. “I was in the med-bay this one time, trying to convince Knock Out to fix my decals... “ He fluttered his door wings to call attention to said decals. Ultra Magnus couldn’t say he strictly condoned the waste of resources on something like cosmetic detailing, but moral did seem to be higher when the officers were looking their best. “And um… well… Wheeljack came in. They were sort of snarking at each other, really playful but trying to make it seem like it was nothing, y’know?”

“I think I may understand, yes.” Ultra Magnus intoned. 

“Knock Out was nervous about people finding out about them. Because of his past as a Decepticon and because of Wheeljack deserting a few times.” Smokescreen rubbed the back of his helm. “So Knock Out asked me not to say anything… But Wheeljack came to me asking how to fill out a Conjux Endura application, and we sort of went through it together to figure it out.” 

Smokescreen’s rambling was beginning to remind Ultra Magnus of another young mech he had met during the war. “So you helped him with the application? It was excellently written, soldier.” He said with a genuinely pleased tone. 

“Yeah? Yeah!” Smokescreen beamed. “It was, wasn’t it sir? Anyway, I dunno so much about Knock Out, but Wheeljack’s obviously head over heels. It’s all in the door wings…”

 

 

Bumblebee laughed. Ultra Magnus felt a touch uneasy as he watched the former Scout throw his helm back, clutch his hands to his chassis and laugh like the Commander had asked the most hilarious thing in the world. 

“I’m… I’m sorry sir, it’s just so unlike you to ask something like that so casually!” Bee exclaimed, grinning up at him. “As for what I think about the whole situation? I think it’s just what we need. Those two are leading by example. And Optimus would have been happy to have a little more love in the world.”

“Yes, I daresay he would probably advocate more unions such as this.” Ultra Magnus relaxed a little. “My question is more directed at whether you think it’s genuine or not though.” 

“Definitely.” Bumblebee said without hesitation. “Knock Out would never actually admit to himself just how much he cares about Wheeljack, but you can tell. His spark beats faster when Jackie’s in the room. He’s far more relaxed and at ease now knowing there’s someone out there who unconditionally has his back. Not to mention-” Bumblebee stopped short, glancing up at him again then resetting his vocalizer. “Uh, not to mention, Wheeljack’s been doing all the stuff he’s scheduled to do without complaining.” 

Ultra Magnus raised an eyebrow but said nothing about the stutter in conversation. “I trust your observations. There isn’t much that gets past you.” He made a thoughtful noise. “I would have thought it would be you and Knock Out together in the end. You two seem to get along very well.”

“Knock Out insinuated as much.” Bumblebee shrugged in an easy going way. “I’m happy for them. I was never pursuing more than friendship with Knock Out. Everyone needs a friend. Especially when everything they’ve known for the past few million years has been turned upside down and shaken vigorously.” 

“Thank you for your insight.” Ultra Magnus smiled at him and Bumblebee nodded back.

 

“I’ve never seen Jackie so happy!” Bulkhead exclaimed. “He was ready to rabbit before the application was sent in, but it seems like he’s firmly setting down roots. Finally!” The big mech laughed. 

“And with the war over, he’s in no danger of going off on his own and potentially getting hurt. Or of doing something reckless and endangering others.” Ultra Magnus murmured. “It’s a nice change of pace.” 

“Jackie never meant any trouble. He’s just got a rough personality.” Bulkhead sobered a little, looking away awkwardly. “I think Knock Out can keep him in line if none of the rest of us can. Even if it means knocking him out and strapping him to something so he can’t run away.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, soldier.” Ultra Magnus grimaced a little. 

 

He returned to his office deep in thought, and he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until a hand stopped his door from closing once he was inside. 

“You didn’t come and ask me my thoughts.” Ratchet’s voice said, a teasing, amused tone to it. “Afraid I might ruin the elation?”

“Nothing like that, Doctor.” Ultra Magnus ex-vented and offered the older mech a seat. “What brings you home?” 

“Maybe I wanted to see you.” Ratchet replied coyly. “Maybe I was just checking in. Maybe I was homesick… whatever the reason, I’m here now.”

Ultra Magnus regarded the other mech, sinking into his own chair with a near inaudible groan. “And what is your opinion?” He asked, folding his hands on the desk.

“My opinion is that you’ve been working too hard. Again.” Ratchet fixed him with a stern look. “Your back struts are a mess, your wiring is twisted and you’ve been cutting short your recharge to get more work done. You DO have officers who can take care of things for a few hours while you get some sleep, you know?”

“I meant your opinion on our soon to be bonded.” Ultra Magnus pulled his lip plates into a tight line. 

“I wish them the best of luck. They’re both going to need it.” Ratchet said simply. “Do I need to order you to the med-bay for a check up? Or can I trust you’ll go yourself?” 

“So you came here to lecture me, I see.” Ultra Magnus grumbled and Ratchet let out a short laugh. “I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, Ratchet. I don’t need medical care.” 

“A few more days in that seat and you’ll be walking with a limp. Trust me on this one.” Ratchet reached across the desk and closed his fingers around one of Ultra Magnus’ wrists. “You’ll perform better when your back isn’t twinging while you recharge and keeping you awake. You could probably even stand to use the oil bath every few weeks.” 

“Guess I’m starting to show my age. An old war dog without a war.” Ultra Magnus’ impressive shoulders sagged and he reached up to rub his face. “It does get wearing, trying to run a world that’s still in so many pieces.”

“And no one could ask you to do a better job than you are already.” Ratchet said, pulling his hand away. “But if you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to do anything at all.”

“I will consider myself sufficiently reprimanded.” Ultra Magnus gave Ratchet a wry smile. “I am about to retire for the night. Would you like to take a drive?”

“A walk might be better.” Ratchet mused, getting to his feet. “It’s been some time since we had a moment for ourselves.” 

“Maybe we can go to the Well.” Ultra Magnus also stood, lowering his optics. “Visit him.” 

“I’m sure he’d like that.” Ratchet nodded. “And afterwards, you’ll take a long, relaxing oil bath. Then I’ll massage the knots out of your wires and we’ll see where the evening leads us.” 

It wasn’t an order, but Ultra Magnus was willing to take it as such if it meant seeing more of that smile on Ratchet’s face.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does the saying go? One turn deserves another? Does that even apply here? I have no idea anymore. There is so much canon divergence that this is pushing into the realm of AU! And good news... while this is the last chapter of this story, there are two more parts coming! Hurray!

As much as Knock Out had teased Wheeljack with plans for some grand, epic ‘wedding,’ in the end it was just a handful of them crowded in Ultra Magnus’ office to witness the signing of the documents. 

Bulkhead and Arcee, the senior-most officers next to the Commander himself, and Ratchet the CMO were there. They offered quiet congratulations, though Bulkhead’s sounded a little nervous and Ratchet’s very terse, then it was done. 

They went back to Knock Out’s room, where Wheeljack had moved a few of his things for the sake of ceremony. When the door closed behind the medic, they stood in silence and stared at one another. 

“S’official.” Wheeljack said, his field giving off a distinctly nervous feeling. 

“Yes, it is.” Knock Out smiled at him fondly. “We are officially bond mates. At least on paper.”

Wheeljack gave a jerk of his head and looked away, finding the wall where Knock Out displayed his credentials fascinating if his staring was any indication. The red grounder approached him, laying a hand on his shoulder and frowning as he flinched. 

“Now what’s gotten into you? You’re not actually nervous about us being bonded, are you?” Knock Out asked, Wheeljack giving him a pained look. 

“It’s not the being bonded thing that’s botherin’ me.” He said in a low voice. “It’s the whole… spark bonding thing. I’ve never done it.” 

“It’s the same as merging, just more meaningful.” Knock Out assured him, and Wheeljack’s field didn’t smooth out a bit. “... wait… Wheeljack…”

“KO.” There was a hint of warning in the Wrecker’s voice, but Knock Out pressed forward. 

“You’ve never merged before?” He blurted, Wheeljack’s shoulders and door wings slumping. 

“You remember me sayin’ that you were the first person I’ve been in a real relationship with?” Wheeljack snapped. “What part of that made you think I’ve been in the position to merge with anyone?”

“W-well I-” Knock Out spluttered, optics wide. “I just assumed you would have! I guess it’s something I took for granted!” 

“No one’s touched my spark but me.” Wheeljack said firmly. “And I’ve only touched one spark ‘sides my own! That was yours! When I saved you!”

“Which I am grateful for.” Knock Out tried to reign in his EM field, venting long and slow. “Alright. There’s honestly nothing at all to be nervous about. It doesn’t hurt, it’s actually very pleasant.” 

“But I ain’t done it before.” Wheeljack said, now looking embarrassed on top of nervous. “You said I can’t keep lettin’ you call all the shots, but you gotta keep callin’ the shots cause I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

Knock Out took Wheeljack’s hands and pulled him over to the berth. He sat down, tugging the Wrecker down beside him and giving him a long, searching look. “Are you having second thoughts now?” He asked gently, Wheeljack rolling his optics. It was the one gesture the Wrecker frequently made that Knock Out had trouble deciphering. Either it meant he thought you were being stupid, he was so done with a conversation, or he was trying to avoid a subject aggressively. 

“I’m not. I just don’t like not knowin’ what’s goin’ on and you very often make me feel that way.” Wheeljack grumbled. “I got a reputation to keep, Red… you’re always makin’ me look bad.” 

“As your bond mate, that’s my job now.” Knock Out smirked, leaning forward and kissing him. “As beautiful and young as I may look, I think I might actually be a bit older than you. That means I have more accumulative experiences to pass on.” 

Wheeljack just kept grumbling, and Knock Out let out a laugh as he cupped the Wrecker’s face in his hands and silenced him with more kisses. He let things start getting heated on their own, waited until Wheeljack’s hands were on him and pressing into his plates with intent before leaning backwards and drawing the Wrecker down with him. 

“Your paint.” Wheeljack said against his mouth as he settled atop the red grounder. 

“Mm. Don’t care. Not when it’s with you.” Knock Out said with a chuckle. “Just means you’ll have to fix it after.” 

“That might take hours.” Wheeljack leaned down and seized a neck cable between his denta. 

“Gee, darn, hours wasted in your fumbling but capable company.” Knock Out said, a little breathless. 

They touched each other, hands roaming over frames that neither had gotten to know very well. Their interfacing was always hurried and heated, so they took their time now.

Wheeljack had discovered almost by accident earlier that Knock Out liked his legs being touched, especially when fingers got under plating to massage the protoform beneath. He kept one hand busy doing this while the other traced fingers over a pale, pointed finial on the side of the medic’s helm. 

Knock Out knew Wheeljack liked a bit of a firmer touch and dug his claws in lightly as he moved his hands over the Wrecker’s chassis. He stroked Wheeljack’s chest plate, nuzzling his face into his bond mate’s shoulder. “Open for me. I promise I won’t hurt you.” He said, without all the playful, teasing, devious tones he normally used when uttering such a promise. 

Wheeljack hesitated for longer than Knock Out expected, but his chest plates eventually slid apart to reveal his spark. It was the same color as his optics and pulsing swiftly, Knock Out pushing reassurance into his field as he reached his hand past the parted plates. 

Wheeljack tensed when Knock Out’s claws brushed against his spark, his hands closing into fists. He let out a shaky vent when claws dragged over the surface, charge flickering over him. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Wheeljack said, Knock Out looking up at him in surprise. “You’ve got this look of reverence on your face. Still can’t believe it’s for me.” 

“I would have liked a little less of a whirlwind, but I don’t regret this.” Knock Out said, still stroking the Wrecker’s spark. “I don’t regret you.” 

“Guess we’ll have ta thank Bumblebee for gettin’ us into this mess.” Wheeljack gave him a crooked smile that only trembled a little. “If it weren’t for him goin’ off on that mission, I woulda never walked into the med-bay that day.”

“I’d like to think you would have found the time to flirt with me on a different occasion.” Knock Out said playfully, reaching in his other hand and doubling his efforts.

Conversation ceased. Wheeljack was too overcome with unfamiliar but pleasant sensations to focus on speaking, and Knock Out was trying to keep his chest plates from opening too soon. He didn’t want to make the Wrecker even more nervous than he already was, and he didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated. 

Wheeljack’s vents heaved, hot air rushing over Knock Out’s frame. He wasn’t quite writhing, but his shifting and squirming was leaving plenty of paint transfer that Knock Out looked forward to him fixing later on. The charge that rippled through and over his frame kept leaping to the red one he lay atop and Knock Out appreciated the jolts of pleasure that resulted. 

“Knock Out.” Wheeljack’s voice had a sense of urgency. “Please… wanna see it.” 

“This will be the point of no return.” Knock Out said gently, his hands growing still. “Are you absolutely sure?” 

“Love you. Wanna be one with you.” Wheeljack looked at him with dim optics, pressing a hand to Knock Out’s chest plates and tracing fingers over his headlights. “Please.” 

Venting slowly, Knock Out took Wheeljack’s hands in his own and folded back his chest plates. Almost immediately, the cyan spark above him reached towards his own orange spark and a look of awe settled over Wheeljack’s face plates. 

“Pretty.” Wheeljack said, hesitantly reaching out but settling on curling his hands around Knock Out’s waist. He pulled the medic up until they were sitting facing one another, Knock Out straddling his hips and giving him a burning look. “I’m ready. I’m ready for this.” 

“Once the bond happens, our sparks belong to only each other.” Knock Out said, Wheeljack giving him an exasperated look. 

“I know, KO. I’m yours, you’re mine.” He paused, looking back down at Knock Out’s spark. “Will I see… y’know… everything?”

“The whole ‘partner’s life flashing before your optics’ thing is just a hopelessly romantic myth. You will feel my emotions, my thoughts, but you shouldn’t be subjected to a rapid slide show of my life.” Knock Out explained. 

Wheeljack nodded slowly, still staring down at his spark. His spark chamber cycled open, Knock Out mirroring his actions and waiting for him to instigate. There was less hesitation, and Wheeljack leaned to press their sparks together. 

It was intense. It had been a great deal of time since Knock Out’s last merge, and he heard himself shouting as he reached over Wheeljack’s shoulders and dug claws into his back. The Wrecker went rigid in his arms, and everything was swallowed up in a rush of panic and bliss. 

Wheeljack felt scared, like a caged animal cornered by a large predator. He felt overwhelmed, ready to lay down and embrace whatever fate befell him. There was a glimmer of regret that he was tying himself down, that he couldn’t just drift off the way he always had. And there was love. So much of it that Knock Out felt as if he were smothering in a warm embrace. 

He felt tendrils of Wheeljack reach into him, and he lowered his defenses to let them in. He folded them into himself, let them become a part of himself, and suddenly he was caught in the white, blinding rage of overload. 

When it passed, Wheeljack’s spark pulsed hard around his, the feeling of love and joy and of being wanted and protected swelling impossibly. Knock Out drew these feelings in, pushed his own love and need back and the emotions Wheeljack returned to him after were indescribable. 

They crashed into him like the waves of Earth’s oceans, and this time they overloaded together. Knock Out wasn’t sure which one of them was screaming, or if it was both of them, and he could feel Wheeljack’s hands tightening on his frame. 

The intensity of Wheeljack’s presence in him diminished, their sparks pulling apart and their chambers spiralling closed. Knock Out’s voice box was full of raw static, but Wheeljack was sobbing into his shoulder, and it still could have been either one of them that was screaming at the end. 

“M’here.” Wheeljack said hoarsely, clinging to him as though he had no intention of ever letting go. “I’ve got you, Knock Out.” 

It seemed strange, the overcome Autobot reassuring him when he was falling to pieces himself. Knock Out pressed his face into Wheeljack’s neck, feeling the flickers of amazement and shock through their bond. He shuddered and offlined his optics. 

_I love you_ , he whispered through the bond, Wheeljack now practically crushing him against his chest. 

 

“How’s it comin’?” The question echoed off the bare walls of the half collapsed building, and the only answer the speaker got was an irritated scoff. “That good, huh?” 

“Thought you were supposed to be an engineer.” Another voice muttered, followed by the sound of rubble shifting. 

“I will get it working in time, but if you keep asking me stupid questions and distracting me-” The words, spoken with a lilting accent, were cut short by the sound of a weapon charging up outside. “... I thought you were supposed to be keeping watch, Springer.” 

“I was.” Springer said, bringing out his blasters and ducking under cover. “Must be around the other side. Kup? You give the kid a weapon?” 

“He’s a pacifist.” Kup grunted, ex-venting smoke from his cygar and moving towards the back door. “Keep at it, Percy. Springer, you cover him. I’ll find the-”

Rapid footsteps moved towards them and a small red and white figure burst through hall leading from the back door. “Decepticons!” 

“Figured as much.” Springer said, smirking over his shoulder. “Hunker down near Perceptor, Aid.” 

“And what am I supposed to do with him?” Perceptor glanced up from where he was attempting to fix a long range communicator they had found in the rubble. “If you want me to fix this, I can’t protect First Aid.”

“If we do our jobs right, you won’t have to!” Springer said brightly, standing and slipping out of their makeshift shelter. Kup made a noise of agreement and headed out the back. 

There were two of them that Kup could see. He watched them through a gap in the door and narrowed his optics. Both were armed, both seemed to be frightened, and both were looking off in the direction they had presumably come from. 

They also had their backs turned. 

He may have been an old dog, but he was still spry enough to get through the door without alerting them. Keeping his field tucked in tight and moving as silently as he could and as slowly as he dared, he levelled his weapons at the two ‘Cons. 

“Evenin’ boys.” He growled, both of them jumping to face him. “Nice night.” 

“Autobot!” The smaller of the two hissed, charging his blaster. There was a sharp whine behind Kup, then the Decepticon flew backwards with a hole in his chest. 

“Carcass.” Kup sucked on his cygar and gave the other ‘Con a searching look. “What brings you boys to this neck of the woods?”

“You killed him!” The Decepticon blurted, eyes wide with disbelief. “The war is over! We are not your enemies!” 

“He had his weapon pointed at my friend.” Springer said as he moved to stand next to Kup. “He had it coming. Pretty good shot, too, he never knew what hit him.” 

“Th-the Autobot had his weapon pointed at us!! We were just defending ourselves!” The ‘Con bleated, lowering his own weapons and raising his empty hands in surrender. 

“Look, we’re nothing if not merciful. You can take your friend and go.” Kup said with a shrug. “That is, if you can tell us what’s got you so spooked.” 

::Kup, the transmitter is working.:: Perceptor informed him over the comm. 

::Good. Call us some help, we might have bigger problems than a couple ‘Cons on our doorstep.:: Kup waited for the Decepticon to come up with an answer. 

“There’s a Swarm!” The Decepticon said, shuffling a little closer to his now dead friend. “Insecticons! Something’s got the hive riled up and they’re headed this way! We were just trying to find shelter!” 

“What’s your name, kid?” Kup asked, weapon still trained on the Decepticon. 

“Flatline.” The ‘Con glanced at Springer, who seemed at ease and was smirking in a smug fashion. 

“You say the war’s over?” 

“Y-yes. From the mouth of our Lord. He said there are no more Decepticons. Optimus Prime is dead. Life is returned to Cybertron thanks to his sacrifice.” Flatline sounded bitter, though Kup wasn’t sure about which part.

“Damn.” Springer said just under his breath, Kup giving him a brief nod of agreement. 

“I’m… I’m a medic. You can take me prisoner. I’ll help you.” Flatline’s hands trembled and he looked down at the body of his friend. “I have no way to defend myself out here. I won’t put up a fight.” 

“How typical. A Decepticon coward.” Springer said, tilting his helm to the side. 

“We’ve already got a medic with us, we don’t need your help.” Kup said, watching Flatline’s face fall. “You’ve got two choices right now. You keep moving, or Springer here sends you to join your friend.”

“What is this? I thought you Autobots said you were merciful!” Flatline began to back away. 

“We’re not just Autobots.” Springer said with a grin. His weapon began to whine again, Flatline’s optics widening. “We’re Wreckers.”

Flatline fled. Kup and Springer watched him go. Cygar smoke curled around Kup’s head and he glanced up at Springer through its haze. 

“I had it. You didn’t need to kill that ‘Con.” He said gruffly, Springer shrugging one shoulder in response. “I wonder if Flatline’s tellin’ the truth about the war.” 

“Doesn’t matter. A ‘Con’s a ‘Con.” Springer said, turning to head back inside. “They would have done the same if our roles were reversed. They probably would have done worse.” 

“Wish I could say that wasn’t the truth.” Kup shook his helm and ex-vented deeply. “But we’ve been at this long enough to know it is.” 

::Kup.:: Perceptor said over the comm. ::I’ve got someone on the transmitter you’ll want to speak to.::

::On my way.:: Moving back into the shelter, Kup scanned the horizon over his shoulder for any sign of the Swarm before heading for Perceptor. “We have to get moving. Apparently there are bugs on their way here.” 

“Bugs?” First Aid asked nervously, visor bright. 

Perceptor looked up from the transmitter, moving out the way so Kup could settle down in front of it. 

“This is General Kup.” He said conversationally, a brief silent pause on the other end before a voice that held both amusement and disbelief began to speak. 

“This is Commander Ultra Magnus. Good to hear your voice, General.” 

“Magnus? Hah! So you survived too, good to hear it.” Kup grinned. “Look Magnus, we’re in a bit of a bind. Not sure of our coords, but there’s a Swarm on its way.” 

“We’ll try to get a fix on your location and send a bridge. It will be good to see you, old friend.” Ultra Magnus sounded tired, relieved. Kup wondered how many the ‘Commander’ was overseeing at the moment. 

“Gotta ask if the news is true.” Kup said softly. “Is the Prime dead?” 

“I’m afraid so.” Ultra Magnus replied. “We’ll fully debrief you when we bring you in. Stand by for ground bridge.” 

They heard the bridge open outside at the same time they heard the shrill, warbling cry of an Insecticon. The bug slammed through what was left of the roof, landing heavily on First Aid. Springer brought both his blasters to bear and opened up, the Insecticon turning to him with mandibles spread. 

“Percy! Grab Aid and get to the bridge!” Kup shouted, also opening fire at the Insecticon. 

“This is just a scout, but we gotta get moving before the rest of them find us!” Springer shouted. Perceptor managed to get First Aid up and helped him to the door, Springer moving to cover their retreat. 

The Insecticon roared, transforming and powering up its weapons, and Kup spat his cygar on the ground. 

“Run! Get to the bridge!!” He said, turning and making a break for it. “Ultra Magnus, if you can hear us, we are taking fire! I repeat, we are taking fire! We’re coming in hot!” 

 

 

Bumblebee was already in the bridge room when the call came in, and he and Ultra Magnus exchanged a glance when Kup’s voice shouted through the transmitter. Reaching up, Bumblebee opened the comm. 

::I need all available officers in the bridge room right away.:: He said, trying to sound calm. ::We’ve got a situation.::

::On it.:: Bulkhead said immediately. 

::On my way.:: Arcee responded. 

Ultra Magnus moved to stand in front of the open ground bridge, weapons at the ready. Bumblebee stepped up beside him, stingers drawn. When Bulkhead and Arcee arrived, they both moved to flank the others, and all of them waited. 

The first people through the ground bridge were a tall teal and red mech with a sniper rifle slung over one shoulder. He was supporting a smaller red and white mech with a face mask and visor. “Medic!” The taller mech shouted, moving the red and white mech out of the way and laying him gently on the ground. 

::Knock Out, hate to cut your honeymoon short, but we need you.:: Bumblebee said over the comm, hearing an over dramatic exclamation in response. 

A rather ragged looking older mech burst through with his back to them, accompanied by a bright green and orange one about half again his size, both of them firing back through the bridge. 

“Close it!” The older mech shouted, the Vehicon on the bridge controls doing so without any hesitation.

They heard the Insecticon screaming, the ground bridge slamming closed on it and cutting off all sound. 

“Is that Kup?” Bulkhead asked in a low voice, optics wide with awe. “I haven’t seen him in years! I thought he died in the war!” 

“Percy?” Kup called out. 

“Doing all I can.” Perceptor said in a monotone voice, his hands moving over the small red and white frame he crouched over. “Where is your medic, Commander?” 

“On his way.” Ultra Magnus replied, moving to shake hands with Kup. “General.” 

“Commander, huh? Guess there really couldn’t be anyone better to take over for a Prime.” Kup said with a smirk. 

“Why are there Vehicons in here?” Springer hissed, eyeing the soldiers on the comm and bridge controls. 

“They joined us after the war. They were subjected to oppression at the hands of Megatron and were rigorously screened before joining our ranks. They won’t pose any problems for you or any of the other Autobots on base.” Ultra Magnus urged. 

“Alright alright, I’m here. What exactly seems to be the problem?” Knock Out’s voice called across the bridge room, all eyes turning to him. He was scuffed and his field was full of irritation, Bumblebee hiding a smirk by looking towards First Aid. 

“Your patient’s over there.” He said, Springer holding up a hand. 

“So, I get the ‘rigorous screening’ thing, but I fail to see how this butcher made it through.” The large mech snarled. 

“Yeah, gotta say, I’m really beginning to question your standards, Magnus.” Kup’s optics were narrowed. “You do realize who this is, right?” 

“I’m well aware of it, but right now you don’t have a choice. Our CMO is on Earth, while Knock Out is here. The Doctor was also officially pardoned by Optimus Prime himself.” Ultra Magnus said. 

Knock Out had stopped and was staring at the group with a frown. Bumblebee recognized the expression on the medic’s face, that hurt, shamed look he got when his past deeds came to confront him.

“I do not care who or what he is, I need his help.” Perceptor snapped. “If you would kindly assist me, Doctor, our young companion is going to die if we don’t get him stabilized.” 

Glancing over, Knock Out looked inquisitively at both Kup and Ultra Magnus. The former frowned and made a noise of discontent, the latter nodded encouragingly, and Knock Out stepped past the group of mechs to help Perceptor. 

“Come with me. I’ll debrief you, General.” Ultra Magnus said, gesturing. Kup nodded and followed him from the room, Springer remaining where he was. 

“I’ll come by later. I wanna make sure the ‘Con doesn’t try anything.” Springer said. 

“He’s not a ‘Con anymore.” Bumblebee said in Knock Out’s defense. “He was a part of Team Prime just like the rest of us.” 

“Even if it was just at the end.” Bulkhead supplied. 

“Not helping, Bulk.” Arcee said, rolling her optics. 

“So he went turn-coat to save his own aft and you all just fell for it?” Springer said, glaring over at Knock Out. “The war must have robbed ‘Team Prime’ of its senses.” 

“At least Team Prime had some to begin with, unlike you, Springer.” Another voice called out, Springer turning swiftly to look in the direction of the speaker. “If someone had told me that ‘we have a situation’ meant ‘there are Wreckers on our doorstep,’ I woulda gotten here faster.” 

“Jackie?” Springer sounded bewildered. “Jackie! How the Pit are ya?” 

“In a punchin’ mood, as per fraggin’ usual.” Wheeljack grumbled, moving to punch Springer in the arm. “Glad to see you’re still standin’.” 

“And so are you, for the time being.” Springer said, returning the gesture. 

“You implyin’ that’s gonna change sometime soon?” Wheeljack arched a brow and Springer jerked his head in the direction of Knock Out. 

Perceptor was standing. Perceptor was staring at Wheeljack. Perceptor was wearing a rather murderous expression on his face. 

Wheeljack’s optics widened to the point where it looked like they were going to fall out of his head. “Oh slag.” He said weakly.


End file.
